The Consequences of Free Will
by true-blue-sheila
Summary: She was victorious - on her own terms. She would bow before no man – ever. They tried to burn away her Will – but she rose from the ashes, stronger than before. Now, Arielle must once more break free from the shackles of Fate. But how much pressure is one person expected to be able to bear before she cracks under the strain? Even if she is The-Girl-Who-Lived.
1. Prologue: The Dream

Title: The Consequences of Free Will

Author: true-blue-sheila

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, no-one and nowhere. The Vampire Diaries belong to L.J. Smith, the CW T.V. Network and all associated producers and directors thereof. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling - long may she reign - and Warner Bros. Studios**

****Author's Note (1): This chapter has been edited heavily. Please re-read if you read this prior to November 28th, 2014.****

Summary  
><span>She was victorious - on her own terms. She would bow before no man – ever. They tried to burn away her Will – but she rose from the ashes, stronger than before. Now, Arielle must once more break free from the shackles of Fate. But how much pressure is one person expected to be able to bear before she cracks under the strain? Even if she is The-Girl-Who-Lived.

Prologue: The Dream

_She could feel the Otherness writhing within her. It whispered to her without words, but she could feel it inside her soul – a primal, ancient consciousness that no mortal being could truly comprehend. She welcomed it now as it wound its way through her, where she ended and the Other began was no longer clear, they were One._

_Never before could she have brought herself to allow this – she had ever chosen the path of freedom, spurning all attempts of others to define her, guide her or bind her to their idea of who she should be. How she should live her life. She practiced her magic as she willed, defended her right to independence and privacy fiercely in the face of those who would name her unnatural and defiant. She was but a girl, they claimed – a helpless female with no kin or guardian to watch over her._

_Her ability to look to her own protection had been proven to her own satisfaction, and to their great chagrin, many times over but still it did not seem to be enough to silence them. They urged her to seek fostering with any number of families prepared to take over her welfare – she had only to choose which she preferred – and who would afford her shelter and care._

_In time, as she came of age, the head of her household would offer her hand in marriage to a suitable husband, and she would have the opportunity to raise a family of her own. Her reaction to such _generosity_ was unequivocal, she had openly disdained the very idea of bowing to the authority of males – she trusted so few people as it was, and her past experiences had hardly encouraged a great deal of faith in men._

_Their society placed so much power into the hands of men – too much. She had seen for herself that they could so easily abuse their authority over the women and children in their charge, and rarely did any intervene or even offer as much as a token protest. No, she would never allow herself to be so vulnerable. Her accomplishments were her own and any decisions regarding the course of her life would not be left to others to make for her._

_And her choices had led her to this, the moment where she understood everything. The gods who watched over the destiny of mankind did not see the need to compel anyone into a path not of their own design. It was always a choice as to how one met and reacted to the circumstances that they faced in the mortal lifespan they were granted on this earth.  
><em>_Free Will__._

_She had chosen to embrace her fate and offer herself to the kiss of steel, the release of flame. A willing sacrifice to save those who could be saved, a chance to be resurrected a final time with the strength to oppose the ones who sought power that was not theirs to take, to control others through fear and suffering._

_For a moment, the faces of the ones lost to her flashed through her mind – their lives forsaken in a pointless, savage conflict – her family and her friends. In that moment she would have fallen to her knees and wailed her torment, screamed it to the very heavens – but it was time. Time to seek the end that, if they only knew it, was only the beginning._

*T*C*o*F*W*

_She sensed, more than saw, the movement at the very edge of her vision. Instinctively she pivoted smoothly toward it as her arm came down and across her torso in a swift, diagonal arc. Her attacker released a high-pitched yowl that trailed off into an ugly, choked gurgle. His blood sprayed across her arm and face, the blade in her hand striking true. Slumped at her feet, the body of the wolf was limp and still. Lingering only long enough to be certain of its demise she moved through the mayhem, searching for her true enemies, the ones she sought to entrap with their own short-sightedness and ambitions – their greed would be their undoing._

_Ever onwards she swept through the melee, pausing only to engage assailants in combat, by magic or steel they fell before her. Finally, she had broken free of the clashing mob, giving herself some space to pause and breathe. Standing as she was out in the open, she knew that they would find her rather than the other way around. So much the better, she thought to herself – let them seek her out to finish it. __She only needed one – for where one went, the other followed close behind._

_Finally taking note of where she was, she saw the wooden scaffold used to restrain him for the ritual – empty now. __They __had cursed him, bound his power to blood, stone and moon. His own brother had helped to render him helpless and vulnerable, as he begged and pleaded for them to stop, for mercy. There was none. There never had been, not for him, not for any of the lost._

_There he stood with his siblings in front of the post he had been tied to with the shredded remnants of his bonds trailing from the wooden frame. The five of them watched on with horror – and a strange, predatory hunger – at the bloodshed before them. Her mouth curled in contempt, of course they would not intervene, after all, how could they possibly pick a side in this battle? She angled her head to survey the fight behind her – wolves snarled fiercely with bloodstained muzzles; blades and teeth and claws tore through flesh as men and women screamed in rage and pain; magic was cast in all directions as the hostile clans battled on. Their hatred and resentment was finally boiling over after the recent spate of violence that had seen entire villages be destroyed._

_There were people savagely murdered during the attacks, with the survivors left to nurse the wounded in the aftermath, shocked and grieving for the lost. Their mourning had become a yearning for vengeance on those who had caused such harm, leading inevitably to outright war._

_Turning back to find them watching her now – even amidst the chaos their instincts were uncanny – she regarded them coldly as they began to move in her direction. The expression on her face must have warned them off, for they froze in their tracks. Their eyes showed only confusion – why would she, of all people, look at them like that? Why indeed._

_All of them were so distinctly different from the others, yet each possessed that undeniable, inhuman allure._

_The oldest was a tall, lean male in his prime. His severely masculine face, dark wavy brown hair and intense, pale green eyes made him quite popular with the young women in the village, whether they were married or not. But his naturally quiet and serious manner made him seem standoffish, and disinclined to mingle with others.  
><em>_Finn__._

_The second brother stood with his broad shoulders squared and tense, struggling with the conflicting urges within him. On the one hand, it suited him ill to stand aside and simply watch such carnage unfold. On the other, he was loath to leave his brothers' and sister's sides. Ever protective of those he loved, his watchful dark-hazel eyes viewed the fight before him warily from a strong, angular face framed with shoulder-length near-black hair.  
><em>_Elijah._

_The next brother was a sharp contrast to his older siblings' dark leanness, with his brown-blond curls falling past his broad shoulders. Muscular and sturdy, his blue-grey eyes were still glassy from the effects of the binding magic that suppressed his true self. The handsome, almost pretty, face was set in harsh lines that revealed his anguished emotions.  
><em>_Niklaus__._

_The fourth was the tallest of all the brothers, slender yet steely with an untidy mane of brunette hair that tumbled over his forehead. His sharp face, usually split wide by a mischievous grin with lively, dancing dark brown eyes, was now set in fury. His dark expression warned that he was not happy with all that had occurred tonight, but still he remained unmoving, a silent witness to murder and betrayal.  
><em>_Kol__._

_The lone female seemed almost delicate when standing alongside her brothers. She was slender and pretty, with large blue eyes and long blonde curls that swung as she turned to Elijah, perhaps begging him to intercede. She made no move to enter the fray herself, despite her own supernatural strength and acquired skill with weapons – learned in secret, as her father did not approve of women being able to fight their own battles. She was ever cosseted and coddled by her family as the only girl, her brothers ever eager to leap to her defence, so perhaps it was little wonder that she did not rush into battle on her own initiative.  
><em>_Rebekah__._

_Her rage climbed to new heights as she watched them simply stand there like statues, seemingly indifferent to the slaughter going on around them. Such a picture they presented to outsiders, their bonds with each other strong and unbroken. She knew better. Already, this gruesome and tragic night had seen them fall apart – betraying one of their own out of fear and weakness. Her fingers flexed on the hilt of her sword as she stepped toward them with utter contempt written plainly on her exotic features. They recoiled from her wrath, but it did little to allay her disgust. Cowards._

_Before she could speak, vent her fury, her senses stirred in alarm. She felt _him_ approach her from behind just before the blade appeared from her lower stomach. There was no pain, not yet, only a dull coldness in the pit of her womb where she was pierced through. Her limbs were suddenly heavy, the weight of her sword dragging her arm downwards so that the tip dug into the earth before her numb fingers released it._

_Rebekah gasped in alarm, her hand flying to her mouth in shock at the sudden attack. The others seemed stunned into stillness, their eyes widening in disbelief, before Kol screamed out, "__No. NO! Father, please__!"_

_An eerie chuckle ghosted past her ear, causing her to shudder in disgust at his closeness. How she __hated __him, with all his malice and unfounded pride. He was an arrogant bully, undeserving of the trust that others had placed in him. He ruled his own household with an iron fist, dominating and controlling his children's lives to the extent that none of their varied romantic entanglements had ever come to anything, none had ever married, and only Elijah had even been betrothed. And see how well __that__ had turned out in the end, she thought darkly. For a certainty, none had ever dared to indicate a desire to move from their parent's home into a house of their own in order to be independent of his rule._

_And his __wife __Esther was no better - truly theirs was a union conceived in hell, consecrated by darkness. Now though, it was him wielding the sword that cut through her – he that laughed cruelly at their distress at his assault on her._ _He bent down to whisper in her ear, ignoring her cringe. "Such loyalty you inspire, __creature__, even from mine own children. Of course, monsters do band together after all, I suppose I should not be so surprised."_ _He lifted his face to sneer at them smugly, knowing perfectly well that their superior hearing had picked up his soft tones effortlessly, as he continued to taunt them all, speaking a little louder now. "Though I had hoped that they would remember where their true allegiance belongs – with their family, with their __blood __. . ."_

_Finn and Elijah began to run at him, whether seeking to prevent further harm to her or to aid him in his murderous intent – it no longer mattered. His hand grasped her upper arm tightly as he withdrew the sword at the same time. _Now _it hurt, feeling the blade twist in her flesh as he yanked it free with brutal force, and spun her around to face him as he glared down at her in triumph. Their mutual loathing was evident as she fiercely stared back at him, undaunted. Vaguely aware of the battle around them slowly dying away, as more and more of the combatants stopped to watch this clash of titans in their midst – warrior versus witch, immortal vampire against mortal human, the large, powerful male facing off with the smaller, seemingly fragile female – she bared her teeth at him in defiance._

_She felt the blood flowing freely from the terrible wound in her abdomen, staining her tunic and the waist of her breeches. Barely breathing, her eyes spat hatred as he raised the sword above his head to strike once more. The blade descended and she felt it bite into her chest as he thrust with inhuman speed and strength, the razor-sharp tip tearing through her ribcage to slice into her heart. There was no sound, no movement other than him releasing her arm as he stepped back, leaving the sword embedded in her torso._

_Such a tiny thing she seemed as she stood there alone, all eyes fixed upon her. Her mocha-toned skin spoke of her diverse ancestry – her mother's people had hailed from the deserts of Egypt. From her father, a native son of Andalusia, she had inherited her bright golden hair and startling green eyes._

_Straight and silent, her features were utterly expressionless as she stared back at him with her icy, jade eyes. She showed no signs of faltering, of even feeling any pain or weakness from the mortal wounds he had inflicted._

_Everyone else around them watched on in varying states of disbelief and anticipation at this clash of wills. Surely even__ one as powerful as __she __could not withstand such a savage wound. Then, as if her legs could no longer support her, she went to her knees on the ground slowly, still holding his gaze without flinching._

_He smirked, his icy blue eyes glittering with a cruel light as he opened his mouth to gloat once more, but was cut off as she spoke quietly, "Thank you, __Mikael__."_ _It seemed that giving voice to even those few soft words had drained the last of her strength as she slumped back into the arms of Finn as he was suddenly on his knees behind her._

*T*C*o*F*W*

_In the sudden flurry caused by the young woman's collapse, several people took the opportunity to slip discreetly into the trees ringing the clearing. They had done their part tonight; it was all up to her now._

_If there were those who happened to gaze back at the clearing wistfully, remembering the ones fallen in battle that remained behind – if there barely stifled sobs and cries of mourning amongst the group as they retreated swiftly – there was reason enough. This had been a night of great loss and sorrow, and it wasn't over yet._

_The werewolves roaming alongside these mortal witches lifted their noses into the wind, trying to judge the best way to flee. That retribution would be attempted for their interference against those involved in the great evils perpetrated on this bloody night was assured – but they certainly didn't intend to lay down like the sheep in the pastures meekly awaiting their slaughter, though. It wasn't time to face them, not yet._

_But their time _would_ come, when she returned. Their people, their clans _ – those who had descended from them that still carried on their faith and traditions – would _be ready to play their part once more, to give everything that was needed in the struggle against evil. This was _their_ choice.  
><em>_Free Will._

*T*C*o*F*W*

_Back in the clearing, Finn ignored the shock on his father's face at her words, barely even noticed it in fact. All his attention was focussed on the girl whose head and shoulders he cradled in his lap protectively, __desperately__ as he whispered, "No, no," repeatedly. Her eyes stared up at him unseeingly, the pain and blood-loss taking over her senses as she slipped away from him, from __them__. His siblings were all crouched around her now, denying the evidence of their own eyes – they couldn't lose her!_

_Esther's eyes narrowed thoughtfully, as the crowd around her murmured in disquiet. She cast her mind back, recalling the events of the evening. In particular, the memory of the girl standing within the sacrificial circle as she knelt with her head bent and seemed to pray. 'Prayed for what?' Esther wondered._

_No one could know, for the circle had been sealed off by the witch to all outside it. A seal that they had been unable to crack, one that placed a barrier between her and those who sought to stop her, bind her. It also had the ability to keep all sounds from escaping its borders as the lone witch inside chanted and held out her hands to the heavens, clearly asking for something._

_Esther remembered seeing the girl fall backwards suddenly, as though she had been flung to the ground by invisible hands. Even from outside the mystical barrier, Esther could feel the magic that emanated from within – the girl had clearly cast a powerful spell. The girl stood suddenly and raised her head to look about her – her eyes were swirling brightly with the magic she had called, before dimming somewhat as she seemed to shake off the last effects of the Enchantment._

_Her eyes narrowed as she focussed on the boundaries of the circle – and dropped the seal. Before any could react, she held up her hand and – _pushed_._ _Her power flared out, strong and fierce as her sword appeared in her raised hand. She ran out into the fray, wielding her sword with grace and strength as she cut down those that opposed her. Esther had lost sight of her after that, lost in her own battles with enemy witches and wolves – until Mikael had seen her, and struck from behind._

_Her mind raced frantically, trying to work out what the other witch had meant – who would ever thank their killer for doing such? Was it simply defiance – the girl unyielding and rebellious even in death? Or was there more at play here? What had the girl prayed for, and apparently received – all these questions circled in her mind with few answers if any being presented._

_As Esther pondered, __Niklaus was sitting by the stricken witch's bent knees, peering worriedly at her rapidly paling face. He watched her lift her eyes to Mikael's face as it twisted in disgust at the scene before him. Her words seemed to echo in the clearing long after the witch herself was silent. 'Thank you, Mikael'. She had not spoken sarcastically, her low tone had been calm and clear, her eyes serious. Could she have truly meant it, the crowd whispered heatedly to each other? Why thank him? All here knew of the ill will she bore for Mikael and Esther, which was returned in full by the pair. __It seemed that their bewilderment would not be cleared up just yet, as they watched on._

_She struggled for breath now as her life-blood seeped into the earth, shutting her mind away from the outpourings of grief as the five who knelt beside her pleaded with her to live – to let them heal her, change her. BAH! Had she not warned them, did she not do everything in her power to set them free? __They__ had __chosen this path for themselves; she could spare no more compassion or empathy for their pain anymore. How many others had suffered, bled and __died __for their wilful blindness? Now she had become the latest casualty in this war._

_Opening her eyes – when had she closed them? She couldn't remember – she panted desperately, trying to frame words through numbed lips, to offer one last chance. Flawed beings that they were, she still loved them so. How could she not try to help them, to see if they would finally come to comprehend that their salvation was in their own hands?  
><em>_Free Will__._

"_..."_

"_What is she trying-" Kol began to whisper from the right of her. He was holding her hand in his tightly._

"_Shut it and listen!__" Klaus hissed from the left._

"_You __shut it__, I was only-"_ _Kol shot back before being interrupted again._

"_All of you, __quiet__!" Finn bared his teeth in a snarl as they flinched back at his sudden display of dominance, and subsided._

"_I . . . shall . . . re-return . . . once. O-on-ly . . . once. Nev-ver . . . again."_ _The halting, stuttered words were whispered between increasingly strained wheezing, the barest puffs of sound from her whitened lips. Finn was holding her to him tightly, his head bent over her face as he strained to hear her. He was the closest though the others had crowded around tightly as well, unwilling to be parted from her now. Rebekah was kneeling opposite Kol, holding her left hand, while Elijah was next to Kol mirroring Klaus's position by her knees._

_Finn could hear the terrible rattle in her chest, he murmured to her, "Please, please don't do this, we __need __you." Denying all that his enhanced senses were telling him, them – they could not only see, but _smell_ more blood__ spilled __around her__ than remained within her small body now. Her flesh was steadily growing colder under their touch even as they tried to hold her here to this world – to them – her shattered heart pumping frantically to beat around the impaling steel shaft of their father's sword._

_A struggle she was steadily losing, the discordant rhythm in their ears slowing and weakening, as she slipped ever closer to death. Her mouth opened wide as her body instinctively, but futilely, attempted to channel more air to her slowly collapsing lungs._ _She looked at them, stared at them deeply – trying one last time to impart her message, her warning for the future. ". . . Once . . . more . . ."_

_The final word slipped out on an extended exhale of breath as her eyes closed for the last time, and her body stilled. They exhaled with her and held their breath waiting, waiting for her to inhale once more. They were listening so intently for her breathing to resume, that they almost didn't register what they __weren't __hearing – _almost_._

_It was Rebekah who eventually let go of the cold little hand she was clutching so desperately in her own to press the shaking palm to the wounded breast under the cruel blade. Her touch only confirmed what her ears had already told her, the faltering heartbeat had ceased._ _And so the tears fell. She wept unashamedly, mourning her friend as she would a sister. "She's gone."_ _Unsteadily, she rose to her feet, her heightened emotions upsetting her equilibrium so that she was wobbly and shaken on her feet. Her piercing gaze, however, was aimed squarely at her target as she accused, "YOU killed her."_

_Her brothers had risen to stand just after she had, and now moved to flank her in a rare show of unanimous accord between them. They stood firmly united against their antagonist – their father, Mikael._

_A sharply indrawn breath from the, up until then at least, mostly silent gathering around them drew their eyes – it appeared that Mikael would not be the one to speak in his own defence. Rebekah's public outburst of blame (with their tacit endorsement) for the slaying of their friend would apparently be met by their mother, Esther, in Mikael's stead._

_Whatever it was that Esther had intended to say was lost as a sharp crackling sound erupted behind them. As they spun around, a sight that truly defied belief met their stunned eyes. They witnessed her body bursting into flame – a strange fire burning in hues of green, black, blue and crimson. Yet it was not just the colouring of this blaze that struck them as bizarre – the conflagration's origin appeared to be the point where Mikael's sword met her flesh, tongues of flame glowing silvery-white against her tawny skin._

_Elijah was the first to react, shouting, "No!" he leapt forward, perhaps intent on hauling her mortal remains from the fire in order to preserve whatever was left of the girl he had truly cherished, a wise friend, for all her tender years. He was thwarted in his efforts by the fierce heat of the inferno as it grew to engulf her whole body to the extent that even his enhanced vision could no longer perceive any trace of her through the radiant glow. The sheer intensity of the fire caused him to throw up his arm to shield his eyes and turn his face away, which allowed him to note that Niklaus had moved up beside him. Most probably with the same plan as he, only to be hindered just as he was. Somewhat dazzled by the bright light they had been exposed to, it took Kol's wondering gasp and subsequent, "Nik, 'Lijah, _look_,__" before they caught on that something else had apparently changed. Staring back towards Kol, they saw that Finn and Rebekah had the same bewildered look of – enchantment, perhaps? – On their faces as Kol did as the trio stared back towards the fire._

_Swinging back around they all watched in stupefaction as, from within the very heart of the pyre, a shape emerged. A distinct and familiar outline appeared, they had seen this before – the beak opened and an unearthly melody seemed to arise from the very flames themselves, silvery and sweet as the fire flared higher before falling to a low-pitched purring, almost, as the blaze dulled down – a-_

"-_PHOENIX!"_

_With such harmonic rapture having just been heard amidst the flames, almost anything else would be dissonant, a harsh come-down afterwards. Esther's shrill cry was definitely __not __an improvement especially for those with sensitive ears, Niklaus considered thoughtfully, rubbing the offended organ with the severe misfortune to be facing toward his beloved mother when the harpy let out her mating call. He eyed her with an admittedly large degree of malicious ire, he had neither forgotten nor forgiven her previous measures taken against him this evening – this was salt in his wounds._

_She looked around her in a state of raw panic, her sudden realisation completely derailing her usual composure. No one really knew what to do as never before had they seen the poised matron in such a condition – not even when her youngest son had been killed. Her wild, terrified dark eyes finally settled on her husband – and promptly narrowed in wrath._ "_You __FOOL__!" she screamed at him. "She invoked the spirit of the Phoenix! That is why she was chanting for all that time. A prayer offered to the old gods – the primal guardians of the first witches._

_"You think that you have won by killing her physical body, but you may have doomed us all! If she is reborn, it will be with the power of an Avenger – the spirit of the Phoenix will drive her to seek retribution on those who she believes have wronged her in not just that life, but ALL of her previous incarnations."_

_She had to stop for breath for a moment and Mikael, whose face had steadily reddened in frustration and ire as her tirade continued on, promptly seized his opportunity to retort, "And what would you have suggested I do, my __love__?" he raised his brow in mocking inquiry as he emphasised the last two words with a subtle jeer before continuing, "Allow her to continue wreaking havoc with the ritual __you __designed for this night? In case you do not remember, she _had_ to be sacrificed in order for the ritual to truly succeed. That is what YOU told ME."_

_They glared at each other in silence for a moment before Esther threw up her hands in disgust, gesturing dismissively as she paced. "What's done is done, and cannot be undone." Here she paused to offer her husband a meaningful look before she continued, "None of us had understood before it was too late,_ I_ did not understand, precisely what it was that she had planned – the Invocation of Spirit requires a willing sacrifice. The sacrifice must fulfil specific terms in order to achieve the witch's purpose and successfully summon the guardian they have called on – how they present their sacrifice, what must be sacrificed, or even who they choose to actually perform the sacrifice, all of these things can play a part._

_"She has accomplished her task, marking you as her foe," looking at Mikael, "Along with any who stand with you. Her fate is bound to the Phoenix now. We can do no m-" Her sudden break in speech and her fixed stare over at the – finally – ebbing pyre alerted Finn first, his narrowed gaze switching to follow the direction of Esther's eyes had the others catching on swiftly. As one, they shifted to see for themselves just what was so mesmerising. Elijah huffed out a shaky breath – she was gone, _vanished _as if she had never even been here to begin with. There were no scorch marks or even a burnt-out hollow in the grass where the supernatural inferno had blazed._

_The only thing that remained – his eyes widened, then narrowed intently – was his father's sword, lying in the grass as if it had never pierced the breast and heart of an innocent young girl. And yet – it no longer looked like that same blade. He heard his mother inhale, no doubt in preparation to speak, ordering the seizure of the sword by trusted hands – those loyal to his parents, obviously – and he forestalled the declaration by blurring over to where the sword lay, plucking it up from the ground._

_He stared each and every one of his siblings directly in the eye. He did not speak, simply looked at them. He never once looked to either his of his parents. After this night, what would he have said to them, in any case? The message was clear. He turned and blurred out of the clearing, running as fast as he possibly could away from that cursed place._

_The place where he had lost yet another piece of his innocence tonight, where he still stood to lose everything that even meant anything to him anymore. They could refuse to follow him, choose allegiance to their parents over him._ _He reached another clearing, miles from where he had left them, then waited and prayed. His head snapped around, and his heart shrank a little in his chest as he heard a familiar bellow of rage echoing through the trees from that direction – good gods – was his father sending them to hunt him down now? Or worse, the _werewolves_! His nose wrinkled in disgust at the thought of the putrid creatures – so caught up was he by this repulsive idea that Finn had fled right out of the trees and into the woods beyond him, before he could so much as blink in surprise._

_Eyes wide, he jumped back in shock, and not a little bit of fear, as Kol bursting from the tree-line out into the open coincided with another – __closer? Oh, no! __– shout from his father. Kol, having clearly heard the same as he, poured on more speed than any of them would have previously believed possible without the right motivation, and whipped past Elijah with a look on his face that said he didn't know – or really care at that particular moment – whether he was more panicked, or ecstatic, about the crazed thrill of having their madman of a sire chasing the lot of them all over the wilderness of the New World. Kol was known to be a bit – peculiar – at times._

_By the time Elijah had had a chance to process __that__, Niklaus and Rebekah were crashing through the trees in their blind dash for freedom as Mikael yelled again – he really was starting to get too close for comfort, Elijah thought vaguely – and Elijah was left in absolutely no doubt as to __their __feelings on the issue. They were outright terrified. Rebekah bawled lustily at him while she was still clearing the last stand of trees. "Elijah, stop standing around like a bloody statue! RUN!"_ _One quick glance at Niklaus's face affirmed his support of that sentiment – though he was clearly intent on saving his breath, and strength, to flee for dear life. Elijah assuredly did not need further urging, he turned and bailed out of there with such speed that one might have thought he flew over the ground rather than touching his feet upon it._

_Another echoing roar from Mikael had Rebekah shrilling out her own alarmed yet defiant Valkyric war-cry even as they all ran onwards through the dying night. Their mother had as much as admitted that __the witch unlike any other __had set herself free from the shackles of this mortal world in _her own way– and now it was their turn_. They were making their own bid for independence in __their __new world, she had shown them the way and they only needed to be brave enough to take it.  
><em>_Free Will__._

**Author's Note: Phew! Hopefully all my re-editing has paid off, and this is now much easier to understand. For those who've already been through this chapter, I hope you enjoyed the new snippets of information. For everyone else, I just hope that you enjoyed it, period.**

**Please review, and let me know what you think :D**


	2. Chapter 1: A Witch In London

**Disclaimer:**** See first chapter**

**Author's Note (1): This chapter has been edited heavily. Please re-read if you read this prior to November 28th, 2014.**

Chapter 1: A Witch in London

Early July 2009

London, England

Arielle started awake with a gasp, throwing off her bed-sheets as she bolted upright, staring about her wildly. Only the familiar surroundings of her room met her eyes as she cast them around, searching for – well, she wasn't sure _what_ she was looking for, but whatever it was she didn't find it. Everything in her bedroom was just as it had been the previous night before she went to sleep. Shaking her head with an inward snort, she lay back down staring at the ceiling with a derisive smirk tugging at her lips. What had she expected to find – her dream world magically brought to life in her bedroom complete with medieval dress and weaponry?

Although, as she flashed back mentally to her strange – dream? Nightmare? – that had seemed so real, as though she had truly lived through the whole experience with all those people, she rather thought that their mode of clothing and arms had been a bit earlier even than that. Possibly the dark ages. Their speech and mannerisms were reminiscent of North-Eastern Europe, yet the landscape did not appear to support that premise. What she had envisaged was a wild and raw land much like the history texts that she had studied in school, the ones depicting the early pre-Columbus settlement of the New World.

Any further introspection was interrupted by a quiet knock on her door as Andromeda – or Andra as she preferred to be known amongst family – called through the thick oaken barrier. "Ari? I hope you're awake, because I do not believe that you are going to be permitted to sleep in much longer this morning." The humour in her voice was obvious, even muffled by the door, as Arielle grinned mischievously over to where she imagined Andra would be standing just beyond it. Though it was still early judging by the muted sunlight falling through her window, Ari had a suspicion that no one in the household would be sleeping much past dawn anyway – and why should they? After all, it wasn't everyday that a certain young boy came home for the summer holidays after his first year at school.

"I'm awake, Andra," she called out cheerfully, as she climbed out of bed to head for her en-suite bathroom. "You may tell His Highness that I'll be down for breakfast in about twenty minutes, alright?"

"Not a problem for me, sweetheart. Teddy, on the other hand . . ."

Ari chuckled richly as she walked into the bathroom, hearing Andra's receding footsteps as she moved away from the door, presumably going downstairs to the dining room to wait for her – and to let Teddy know that she was now awake. Quickly stripping off, she twisted the faucets and heard the steamy _whoosh_ as the shower jets erupted with a heated spray of water. She _loved_ magic she thought happily, as she stepped in to the roomy stall and closed the glass partition behind her. Runes for hot and cold inscribed on the corresponding taps meant an instantaneous rush of water at the perfect temperature, without having to wait.

Just as well, because Teddy was unlikely to take kindly to any sort of delay, no matter how justifiable. Time spent on cleansing and clothing oneself for the day ahead was time wasted according the Law Of Teddy, she thought fondly – he was active and impatient, and would happily spend his days as naked and soiled as the day he was born if he thought he could get away with it. Smirking at the mental image, Ari dismissed the possibility entirely, knowing Andromeda would have a nervous breakdown at the very idea – Andra was not a prude, but she did have her mind set on How Things Should Be. Reluctantly shutting off the taps once she was fresh and clean, she stepped back out of the shower to dry off briskly.

Wrapping the fluffy black towel around her damp hair in a rough turban, she slipped on her bathrobe before opening the bathroom door to step into her bedroom. With a casual, "Good morning, Teddy," directed to the scowling preteen boy currently sprawled across her rumpled bed – she had had a feeling that she would find him in her room – she strode into her walk-in wardrobe, unconcerned about Teddy seeing her in the altogether as they both understood he had no intention of peeking.

Spying on girls whether dressed or otherwise held scant interest for most twelve-year-old lads, and Teddy was not an exception. Arielle was NOT looking forward to the inevitable change in his perspective when he hit his awkward teenage period; the memory of her own was not nearly distant enough in her mind to prevent an instinctive shudder of distaste. BAH, hormones! She waved away her contemplation of the not-too-distant future as a worry for another time, and switched her thoughts to her outfit for the day. She had just settled on her favourite black jeans paired with a short-sleeved Henley in deep green, when a whiny voice piped up from her bedroom. "Aunty Ari, _come on_! Geez, do all girls take so long just to find clothes? I'm starving, is it lunchtime yet?"

Snorting inelegantly, Ari rolled her eyes as she retorted, "Ha, ha. Hold your hippogriffs, _Edward_." Smirking as she heard his disgusted huff at the use of the first name that he had forever disdained in favour of the more informal nicknames – he was Ted or Teddy. Just like his grandfather before him (Ari crossed herself and silently mouthed a prayer as she remembered the kindly older man with his gentle eyes, gone for over a decade now). She swallowed against a sudden hard lump in her throat as she thought back on that dark, awful period – so many lost – Ted Tonks had been only one amongst the countless killed under tragic circumstances. Exhaling hard, she impatiently brought her mind away from the grim recollections of a past better left behind. Back to the brighter, happier present currently inhabited by the ever-excitable Teddy who – by the sounds of it – was all but bouncing in his agitation as he waited for her to join him.

Swiftly yanking on her selected gear, she slipped into her preferred footwear of choice, black ankle boots with 3-inch wedged heels – hey, when you were 5'2 in your bare feet you took your inches where you found 'em – and quickly surveyed herself in the full length mirror one the back of the closet door.

Petite (which was just a polite way of saying _short_, damn it), with a slender but supple build, she had a face of pure, pale ivory defined with sharply cut high cheekbones tapering to a defiantly pointed chin. Her full cherry-hued lips pursed as large almond-shaped eyes, of an incredibly clear and vivid shade of emerald framed by thick black lashes, observed her appearance approvingly – perfect for a day out with the family.

A thinly chiselled, straight nose finished off the face of a striking, exotic young woman. Her notoriously untameable mane of black curls tumbled down her back, hitting just below the soft swell of her hips. Nodding to her reflection, she moved out from behind the door and exited the room before smiling in Teddy's direction. "Ready or not, here I am."

Perched right on the edge of the side of her bed closest to her he flung his arms out dramatically, falling backwards into her tangled bedclothes as he proclaimed loudly – apparently to the silver-and-crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling above him. "Finally!" As rapidly as he'd collapsed, he was up and off the bed and racing for the door.

A skinny boy who was tall for his age, with gangly limbs and a gamine face topped by straight black hair – in his natural state, of course. Teddy's legacy from his Black family ancestry was his Metamorphmagus ability, shared by his mother, Nymphadora, before him. At the moment, though, his hair was rapidly cycling through various colours in a dizzying display – blue, red, green, PURPLE, and so forth.

"Come on, Ari, breakfast is ready. You know Winky hates waiting for us," he prattled over his shoulder as he swung the door open. She was right behind him as he hurried towards the winding staircase that led down to the first floor of the old house, where the dining room sat off to the side of the family's private parlour.

"Slow down, love," she cautioned as he went to hurtle himself down the steps. "Your Gran will have your head if you go clattering down those stairs 'like a herd of rampaging centaurs'." They both grinned at her deadpan recital of Andromeda's oft-repeated admonitions over Teddy's apparent inability to descend – or ascend, for that matter – steps without excessive noise and crashing feet. "And she'll have MY head if, gods forbid, you actually take a tumble down them and injure yourself on your first real day home." While she knew that he would instantly dismiss the possibility of causing himself any true harm – ah, the innocence of youth – the reminder that he had only just returned from school for the holidays was more likely to have him pause for a moment.

The idea of starting off his vacation by having to lie around in bed if he _did _hurt himself, was perhaps the best incentive for the energetic youngster to slow down somewhat as they strolled down together, chatting idly as they went. Turning left as they hit the first floor, roaming down the hallway to the second door on the left saw them into the parlour as they made for the archway at the opposite end that led into the informal dining hall. While Teddy scrambled into his chair, Arielle stood for a moment in the entryway as she contemplated the scene of domestic tranquillity before her. Her family.

It hadn't always been like that with Andromeda and Teddy, especially in those first few months – no, years – after the war had ended. Those who were left were traumatized by the horrors that they had witnessed – and in some cases even been subject to – and mourning the ones who were lost in the struggle against Tom Riddle and his followers. A devastating yet ultimately pointless war – gods, weren't they all? The conflict had resulted in unimaginable destruction and death – while there were those who survived to carry on, they hadn't come through entirely unscathed.

*T*C*o*F*W*

_The Death Eaters and their allies had been ruthless in their mission to stamp out all those that they had considered unworthy of existing in the world that they wished to conquer and remake in their leader's own twisted image, and any perceived opposition to their malignant ideology – whether real or imagined – was met with violent retribution. No depths had been too low for them to sink to; there was no limit to what they were prepared to do to achieve their aims. Men, women and children alike who found themselves at their mercy soon discovered that there was none to be had._

_Degradation, blackmail and murder, whether by magical means or simple brute force, were their favoured methods of intimidation – leaving several of their victims with permanent scarring both mentally and physically, if they survived at all._

_Despite having only met once or twice, not long before the end of the war, Andra and Ari were connected through sorrow: Andromeda's only daughter, Nymphadora Lupin nee Tonks (whom all apart from her mother called Tonks for fear of finding themselves on the wrong end of the vengeful Metamorph's wand), was a casualty of the Battle of Hogwarts alongside her husband, Remus Lupin. Remus was Arielle's unofficial godfather and the last surviving link to her parents, James and Lily Potter, who had themselves been the last victims of Thomas Riddle during his __First Rise__ (as it was now being labelled in the history books) as they frantically fought to save their only child – their daughter, Arielle._

_Tonks' and Remus' only son, Teddy, was born just a year before the end of the __Second Rebellion__ (where did they get these titles?) and had been baptised in secrecy. Only his parents, grandparents, and prospective godparents were in attendance along with the minister who performed the ceremony. How joyful they had all been on that day even with the shadow of the war looming over them, united in their celebration over this precious new life, born in defiance of all that Tom and his allies proclaimed to believe._

_A werewolf and a blood-traitor who had actually dared to breed, who threatened to pollute the precious bloodlines of their pure magical brethren? What sacrilege!_

_They didn't care because nothing could have spoiled their happiness on that special day. To think that only one year later, that perfect image was irrevocably shattered. Ted, Tonks and Remus, along with Ronald Weasley (Teddy's godfather), were dead, leaving the rest to try and pick up the pieces of their broken lives._

_The funerals had been the worst, there were far too many lost in the fight. Ari herself had merely drifted in a fog of despair, utterly soul-weary and sickened. She had nightmares, flashing back to the carnage and bloodshed resulting from all the skirmishes and clashes she had been forced to engage in. She had felt almost as if she had _bathed _in the blood of the seemingly endless wounded and dead on the grounds of Hogwarts, felt as if she was as burnt-out and broken as the stony ruins of the once-grand castle._ _After the double funeral of Remus and Tonks, Arielle approached Andromeda about the need for a discussion regarding Teddy's future. In the privacy of the sitting-room at Grimmauld Place, once reassured that Arielle had no intention of usurping her position as his guardian, Andromeda had let down her guard somewhat (Arielle was unsurprised: once a Slytherin, always a Slytherin), enough for both women to shed tears together for what they had lost._

_Arielle pointed out with wry humour that she suddenly seemed to have this whacking great monstrosity of a house on her hands (thank you, Sirius Black!) with more space and rooms than she really knew what to do with, and that she was hoping to offer – with no strings attached (honestly, Slytherins were __SO __suspicious) – a place for Andromeda and Teddy both if she was agreeable. Andromeda regarded her thoughtfully before sweeping a rather sceptical gaze over the dilapidated furnishings about them, lingering narrowly on the tattered, worn tapestry depicting the lineage of the House of Black._

_Arielle had hastened to inform her that the offer was merely academic at this point; any actual relocation would only be possible after a massive overhaul of the place, potentially a complete reconstruction if necessary. Clearly the house's current state of disrepair, along with all the nasty Dark artefacts and Enchantments scattered throughout, was no place for any sane human being to reside in, let alone anyone with a young infant to care for._ _Andromeda had promised to think about it, citing that they had time after all – the kind of extreme renovations that the house was in dire need of was going to take a while, even with the aid of magic. They parted with a slightly awkward, yet sincere embrace, and a mutual vow to stay in touch. They had a child to watch over now, his parents were no longer around to carry on that responsibility, and it was all up to them._

_It had all grown from there, such a heartbreaking beginning had slowly but surely become an unshakeable bond between them all. Teddy had helped of course, a sweet-natured, inquisitive child whose broad smile lit up the room, and remaining tense or standoffish around him was simply impossible._ _As the remodelling of Number 12 really got underway, Andromeda made herself available to the somewhat overwhelmed Arielle. Not only was the younger woman overseeing the extensive renovations, but she also found herself under extreme scrutiny from the rest of the British magical community, which seemed to view her as alternately the heroine of the great war, and the scapegoat for the destruction wrought by the Death Eaters' sadistic regime._

_Every aspect of her life; from pre-Hogwarts to her school years, as well as her actions throughout the war were made front-page news. No detail was considered too personal to publish, no rumour or exaggerated gossip even verified before it was issued into the public forum via the magical media – at least, that was before Andromeda had used her extensive network of contacts to seek out, and hire, one of the foremost legal firms on Ari's behalf. The associate who actually took on the case, a Mr. Howard (call me Howie) Servum, had all but rubbed his hands together in gleeful anticipation at the plethora of evidence he had been handed to work with – the best part was that it was all in writing._

_The media had damned themselves just by putting pen to paper. The libel suit had dragged on for months, and they were heartily sick of the whole bloody mess of it by the end, but they won._ _The fallout had been massive – the __Daily Prophet __had closed their doors, citing a massive loss of revenue and sponsorship. Apparently, the people of Magical Britain had lost faith in their ability to report the news factually and without bias. Arielle had to suppress her urge to laugh hysterically over __THAT __little gem (she could have told them that after the utter debacle that was her fourth year at Hogwarts)._

_On the day that Andromeda and Teddy finally moved in during the winter of 1998, with help from all members of the Malfoy family amongst others – Andromeda and Narcissa looked around in wonder and delight at their rejuvenated childhood home. It seemed that, under the ownership of a determined young Arielle, the house was reborn from the dank sinister dwelling of their early memories into the light, airy space before them. Gone were the menacing decorations – the severed elves heads and dismembered troll-leg umbrella-stand sprang to mind – and the ominous atmosphere of a dynasty in severe decline, this was now a household filled with hope and potential, a place that only needed the people within it to realise and fulfil that hope – a family._

_Both of the formerly estranged, now happily reunited, sisters would forever deny that they shed a few tears at the scene before them: Teddy was safely tucked into his playpen in a corner well out of the way of the steady trail of noisy, chattering people moving in and out of the foyer as they lifted and transferred the trunks and boxes containing Arielle's, Andromeda's, and Teddy's possessions from outside._ _People, that before the end of the war, no one would ever have dreamed of seeing in the same place let alone cooperating and mingling together as they were: Neville Longbottom and Draco Malfoy were currently intensely debating the validity of simple household Charms (Neville was using a combination of _Wingardium Leviosa _and under-powered __Banishing __Charms to shift various bundles of goods all around the residence) versus advanced Transfiguration (Draco's preference was to simply Vanish his chosen targets at the original starting place before he departed to the desired location for the items in question to reverse the __Vanishment__)._

_The cheerful exchange of good-natured insults and banter between the two young men would have suggested that they were lifelong friends to any interested bystander, rather than former bitter school rivals-turned-reluctant-allies during the Rebellion._

_Lucius Malfoy was in the process of shifting a rather lovely brass queen-sized bed frame (Arielle's) through the hallways with great care so as not to bang or scratch the framework against the freshly moulded and painted walls. Hermione Granger, of all people, was supervising his efforts from the other end of the bed so as to keep out of his way and to be able to warn him if the Levitated object should fall or slip out of place._ _The odd pairing of proud pureblood and feisty muggle-born were gossiping away enthusiastically, dissecting the latest issue of __The Speaker__, the publication that had taken over where the __Daily Prophet_ _had left off – only with much less sensationalism, and more attention given to verifying and backing up the facts of any topic the paper presented to the public.__To everyone's astonishment, not least of all their own, the duo had bonded over their mutual appreciation and interest in all of the studies and discoveries relating to the ancient civilisation of Sumer. Who knew?_

_In between stopping to check on and happily chatter nonsense with Teddy, Arielle, along with Luna Lovegood and Ginny Weasley, was most often found upstairs travelling from room to room. Verifying that everything was in its desired location, they started the process of packing it all away – clothes into dressers and closets, books and ornaments onto shelves, etc – getting into the task with verve and enthusiasm. Ari beamed in joy as the home she had always dreamed of finally started to take shape all around her._

_Finally the mighty undertaking was complete, and the helpers had left amidst profuse thanks from the weary and exhausted occupants. The last to depart, Hermione, had swept out with a last obligatory love-fest and cuddling with a sleepy Teddy and her signature bone-squeezing hugs for both women. Retiring to the first-floor living-room, the two all but collapsed on the overstuffed three-seater green sofa. Arielle was cradling a snoozing Teddy as he cuddled up to her chest, while her head rolled over the back of the couch limply. Both exhaled gustily as they relaxed in the peaceful atmosphere, lost in their own thoughts. Breaking free of her reverie, Arielle turned her head to Andromeda as she thought of something._

_Alerted by the motion, Andromeda lifted her head to gaze back inquiringly. Smiling, Arielle murmured softly as not to disturb her sleeping burden. "If I never remembered to say it before, let me say it now, I am so very happy that you decided to take me up on my offer to move in with me, you and Teddy both._

_"I couldn't bear the idea of rattling around the empty old place all by myself, with only the ghosts of the past . . ." here both their gazes shifted to the far wall where new portraits and photographs had been hung. Specifically, their eyes were drawn to a photograph bearing two subjects against a background that looked rather like the old second-floor drawing-room of Grimmauld Place before the rebuild. A fifteen-year-old Arielle stood in front of an older man, who had his arms wrapped around her as her hands gripped his forearms tightly. Her godfather, Sirius Black, with his long, shaggy black hair and wildly blue eyes. He retained some vestiges of his youthful good looks even despite his unlawful twelve-year incarceration in the hellhole known as Azkaban – the Wizarding Prison._

_The decorations in the scene suggested Christmas, quite rightly, for the photo had been taken during the Christmas holidays of Arielle's fifth year, the holidays just before Sirius's death the following June. Arielle and Sirius both beamed hugely at the camera, their body language showing that they were perfectly happy at their closeness and open display of affection, but if you looked closely at their eyes you could see the haunted expression that said that they had seen terrible sadness in their lives. The lost, melancholy glint warned that both had close, personal experience with heartache and death._

_As with all magical photographs, it moved, as if it was a brief film of precious moments in time rather than a frozen snap of the past. Suddenly, Sirius's arms moved from being wound around her torso to place his hands on her waist, where his fingers fluttered in an unmistakable tickling gesture. If there were any doubt as to his intent, Arielle's captured reaction said it all – her hands snapped down to lay over his, gripping and clearly trying to tug them away from her sensitive sides, as her mouth opened wide in a silent, half-indignant and half-shocked shout of laughter. As for Sirius, he threw back his head in a great bellow of laughter, unheard by any observer, as his shoulders shook in mirth at her indignation. The photo then returned to the original poses before beginning the sequence anew._

_Arielle's eyes dropped as she tried to swallow down her renewed grief for him – it was so hard to see how happy they had been, together at last, and know that it would never be like that again. Andromeda watched the cycled interaction a little longer before turning back to her companion, her face softening at the girl's clear anguish._ "_So am I. My memories of Ted and Nymphadora nearly swallowed me up while I was at the cottage. Do not mistake my meaning," she laid her hand over Arielle's, resting on Teddy's back, as she spoke. "Those memories are happy, but still too fresh after losing them both._

_"Returning here with Teddy and yourself, with its restored beauty, means that I – __WE __– have a chance to start again as well. Our lives will be very different to what we may have expected before, but that is irrelevant now. What matters is that we look to the future, and that we work towards making it stronger and brighter for our family."_ _She smiled as Arielle's bowed head snapped up to look at her with a sudden feeling of desperate, barely veiled hope. She gently squeezed the hand she held, reiterating tenderly, "Our family. We are bound together not just by a child, or a shared residence, but by our hopes and dreams for a lighter, happier world than the darkness that we have just emerged from."_

_Arielle's beam began slowly, quirking her full mouth and brightening her suddenly sparkling eyes as it spread across her beautiful, unusual features. Andromeda grinned back at her before remarking, "You know, all of my close family calls me Andra."_

"_I'm Ari."_

_And so it started._

*T*C*o*F*W*

Teddy grinned cheekily toward the head of the table where his grandmother was seated, exclaiming, "Gran, I told you Aunty Arielle wouldn't mind if I waited in her room."

Andromeda's perfectly plucked eyebrow arched haughtily as she tutted in mild reproof, before replying, "Just because Arielle chooses not to tell you off for invading the privacy of her room, Edward-" she eyed him coolly as he squirmed at the name, "-Does not make it right. You certainly do not like it when others come into your room without an invitation, why should this be any different?" When it came to discipline, Andromeda was the undisputed champion of chastisement. Her Black ancestry and the upbringing that came along with being a member of the Ancient family had seen to that, reinforced by her own personal demeanour.

She was a tall, dignified lady of middle age with brown hair that was yet to show a single strand of grey and serene blue eyes. Bearing a rather aristocratic nose and a thin but shapely mouth set in a smoothly imperious face, her shoulders were straight and her posture upright – the epitome of centuries of pureblood breeding.

Teddy stared at his shoes glumly for a moment before lifting his face to Arielle's as she sat in the chair next to him. "Sorry Aunty Ari, I didn't think about that. I was just so excited about today."

"It's alright, Teddy-" she smiled at him. "-I already forgave you because I know you too well," winking at him as he giggled. "You know, I half-expected to wake up to find you all snuggled up next to me like you did the night before you left for school," she mused as she eyed him.

He pulled a face, exclaiming, "But that's for babies, Aunty Ari! I'm a big boy now, at Hogwarts and everything." Andra was chuckling softly in the background as Arielle's expression dropped comically in mock-sadness.

"No more sleepovers? No more stealing the blankets and hogging the pillows?" she sniffled dramatically while Teddy chortled at her teasing. "How could you be so cruel? Do you really mean I have to sleep all by myself, in my huge soft bed, without my favourite godson to keep me company?" He rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"Aunty Ari, _why _do I have to keep reminding you that I'm your _only_ godson?"

"Are you now? I'll have to tell Neville and Luna to hurry along then, and give me lots and lots of god-babies to spoil. Speaking of the Professors Longbottom, how did Neville take it when you were sorted into Slytherin?" she inquired just as Winky popped in with the breakfast platters floating just above her head. Smiling and nodding at the little elf's cheerful greeting of, "Good morning, Miss Arielle," before responding in kind, she waited as Winky quietly served their breakfast, snapping her long fingers to have the platters wink out of existence from over her head only to pop into place in front of each of them. With a bob of her head and a smile, Winky left them to their meal.

They all tucked in, Winky's cooking was too enticing to waste. Teddy paused to have a sip of his orange juice before he replied to Ari's previous question. "After I took the hat off and looked at him, he was just shaking his head and smiling a bit. He shooed me off to the Slytherin table so they could continue the sorting, and I didn't really have a chance to speak with him for a while after that.

"Not personally, at least. He had me stay after Herbology after my first week though, to 'see how I was getting on in the Viper's Pit', as he put it," Teddy recalled, grinning at the memory. "I said to him, 'Now, now Professor, anyone would think you had a grudge against Slytherin. Not very proper for a teacher, is it?' He just laughed and told me that I reminded him of a certain rather cheeky young Gryffindor that he used to know."

"Oh? And who would that be?"

"He said he didn't want to name names."

"I'll bet he didn't. Brave Gryffindor he might have been, but he was never that much of a fool," Arielle laughed heartily, her former Gryffindor housemate had no problems taking the mickey.

"He said he had no problems with any of the houses, that any rivalries were better left for Quidditch and Broom Sweep, in which case he was completely pro-Gryffindor," Teddy revealed as they ate.

"Well, he IS the Head of House for Gryffindor, love, it would be a bit strange if he didn't," Andra spoke between delicate bites of her scrambled eggs. Teddy giggled.

"I know, Gran. He's a great teacher, even if he was a 'bold, chivalrous Gryffindor', and Miss Luna sure knows her stuff in Potions class – Paisley Higgs nearly melted her cauldron once before the Professor could get there and settle it down. It was a good thing too, because we were working on Swelling Solution." He shook his head at the thought. "I remember when Miss Hermione told me about your second year at Hogwarts when your classmates' Swelling Potions exploded and splashed lots of people who were too close."

Ari remembered that one all too well – Goyle's grotesquely enlarged hands, Draco's nose (alright, THAT had actually been rather amusing) suddenly bloated, to the point that he couldn't even hold his head upright under the weight of it, as he scurried up the aisle to the front of the class where Professor Snape was handily curing all those that had been affected by the splattered liquid. Who knew that one little firework could create such a fuss when tossed into a cauldron filled with a viscous material, Ari reflected mirthfully.

They conversed happily for the rest of breakfast with Teddy cheerfully filling their ears with all of his adventures at Hogwarts over the past year, and gabbling about his hopes for the next school year to come – even if that was far, far away (Ari and Andra exchanged grins over his oblivious head) – before switching to their plans for the day. Both of the adult women, in anticipation of Teddy's homecoming, had arranged to take the week off from their respective employment in order to be able to spend time together as a family.

Winky popped back in to clear away the emptied platters (just how the clever elf simply seemed to _know_ when they were finished Ari had never figured out). She had a true family now, something she would never have believed possible all those years ago under the harsh cruelty of the Dursleys; her maternal relatives.

Teddy hopped up from the table, full of excitement again, before catching his Gran's gimlet eye. He gulped slightly, before straightening up and requesting, as politely as a twelve-year-old boy could, to be excused from the table. Andra nodded serenely, before rolling her eyes in fond exasperation, as he raced out of the room like he was afraid she was going to change her mind at any moment. The women shared a laugh at his antics before Ari excused herself as well to ensure she had everything she needed prior to their departure for the day's planned activity. Andra followed her out, the duo parting at the stairs as Arielle ascended to walk to her room with Andra walking to her personal suite on the ground level of the mansion. Eventually, they had all wound their way down and across to the main entrance foyer ready to go. Teddy, of course, was jumping around like a chocolate frog as his guardians went through the final checklist, money – cash and credit – wands safely tucked away in Disillusioned holsters, snacks and water bottles, sunscreen (it was a warm day in the middle of summer), hats and handbags complete with Undetectable, Extension, and Weightless Charms active, check.

Ari recommended one final addition of a Silencing Charm as a precaution, and Andra quickly made a subtle gesture at her. Ari nodded and focussed inward for a moment. She felt her magic ripple over her, achieving the effect she wanted. Andra nodded with a smile, and they were off. Closing the door behind her as she was the last to exit, Ari smiled and revelled in the feel of the bright, hot sunlight on her face. What a perfect day to visit the zoo.

**Author's Note: I know it's a heck of a lot of information to process, and not much action, believe me - I've read AND re-read it several times while self-editing. I just can't think of any other way to get my back-story set up. Hopefully within the next few chapters, I can get the plot humming along steadily. Please be patient with me, this is my first story published in a public format, so I am very nervous to hear what you think.**

**Please review, and otherwise enjoy my twisted little tale.**


	3. Chapter 2: The Beasts Of London

**Disclaimer: See first chapter.**

******Author's Note (1): This chapter has been edited heavily. Please re-read if you read this prior to November 28th, 2014.******

Chapter 2: The Beasts of London

One riotous and hilarious – for Ari and Teddy, at least – Knight Bus ride later, three distinctly rumpled and dishevelled passengers all but tumbled down the steps exiting the infamous magical transport, Andra giving the other two the evil eye as they cackled madly. Shaking her head in annoyance as that only set them off more; she turned her nose up disdainfully, visibly working to regain her usual dignified self-possession. A quietly spoken, wand-less spell had her slightly wrinkled dress falling back into its previous neat and tidy state before she directed her attention to the sobering, yet still widely grinning, pair of miscreants.

Upon seeing Andra's slightly narrowed look, Ari hastily straightened her lips into an appropriately serious curve as she nodded with seeming compliance to Andra's severe, "Never again. I do not care how funny the two of you find it to go tumbling around like rocks in an avalanche-" pausing huffily as Teddy went off into fresh gusts of laughter at that. "-But that . . . that _vehicle_ . . . is a death trap."

She crinkled her nose at the word 'vehicle' as if she found the Knight Bus highly unworthy of the description but was unable to assign another term for it, or at least not any that were terribly polite. Ari's eyes gleamed with poorly suppressed humour as she quickly used the same charm as Andra to straighten out both her clothing and Teddy's before gesturing to the gates in front of them that proclaimed The Greater London Wildlife Sanctuary and Theme Park. "Shall we?"

Entering the first set of gates, they showed their prepaid entry passes to the bored custodian as he waved them forward dismissively into the massive park, set over the span of several city blocks in an open-style layout. There were several walkways with posted markers to indicate nearby attractions and their direction. Teddy was eagerly looking around him as Ari watched closely from nearby – she wouldn't put it past him to suddenly take off if his excitement got the better of him – while Andra was attaining a map and several pamphlets from a helpful attendant.

Strolling back over as she unrolled the map, the pamphlets safely tucked in her bag, she beamed fondly at Teddy's marked impatience to get their adventure underway (yesterday if you please, Gran!) before inquiring, "Well, where to first?"

"Ooh, I know! We have to see the lions, and then the chimps, and ride the rollercoaster, and . . ." Teddy chattered on as he tugged both of the laughing women behind him further on into the park by means of having both of his hands firmly grasping one each of theirs, as he happily burbled away over his plan of attack for seeing _everything_ and partaking in all that the theme park had to offer alongside the wildlife exhibits. He stopped suddenly, staring in rapt concentration at a booth in front of him. Following his absorbed gaze they saw it was a face-painting stall with a few children currently in the process of transformation. Others who were already made-over were standing by with patiently observing parents and guardians, some of whom had painted designs on their faces as well. Teddy turned to them eagerly. "Wait! We can't go before we get our faces painted."

That brought Andra up short, as her eyes flared vaguely in disbelief. "OUR faces? Wait just a moment now, young man, I think you meant YOUR face. Didn't he?" appealing now to Ari to clarify the matter. Andra looked over at the kiosk and the examples of facial art displayed whilst shuddering internally – oh the indignity, no well-bred Black would ever submit to such a thing, and especially not with the intent of being seen in public with such garish adornment. Her inward contemplation of the unseemliness of it all was abruptly halted as she saw Teddy's expression fall in disappointment. Clearly, this member of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black had few worries on the issue of his personal decorum, at least not under these circumstances.

"But Gran, its fun. It wouldn't be the same if we didn't all do it. We agreed that we'd do everything together today, so that it'd be a real family time since we haven't all been together since Christmas." His pleading face, complete with large, puppy-dog eyes, softened her instinctive resistance. Her sideways glance at Ari saw her last hopes for refusal flicker and die as she met the arch look the younger female sported.

"Yeah 'Gran_'_, its fun."

Giving her a look that promised future retaliation for this slight Andra turned back to Teddy, sighing internally at the upcoming affront to her propriety, as she gave in with grace if not enthusiasm. "Alright, for the sake of having . . . fun, then."

"Yay!"

Teddy raced off to the stall to wait for his turn, as his grandmother murmured, "The things I do for you," to his rapidly retreating back. "For you both," she amended, directing that last towards the unrepentant raven-haired girl beside her. Ari guffawed in merriment, clapping Andra's shoulder in amused sympathy.

"I know, I know . . ." holding up her hand in a mocking parody of a politician – or a professor, perhaps – about to make a speech she intoned gravely, "No well brought-up person shall ever conduct themselves in a manner, nor engage in the type of behaviour, that will result in them bringing shame upon themselves and thereby their house. In particular, we refer to those who are members of – or associated with – the illustrious family of Black." Putting her hand back down, she arched her brow at Andra. "How was that?"

"Remarkable really, for someone who never met the woman – you sound just like my dearly beloved, sadly departed great-aunt Cassiopeia," retorted Andra, raising a supercilious eyebrow in return. She was rather amused and, truthfully, a little disturbed – Ari's sardonic delivery really had been quite eerie in its similarity to her memories of Aunt Cassiopeia's constant lecturing on the importance of proper pure-blooded etiquette and their family's supposedly elevated rank in the world. Perhaps it wasn't so surprising, really, after all Ari's paternal grandmother had been Dorea Potter nee Black, Cassiopeia's younger sister. She knew better than to share that particular thought, all too aware of Ari's rather low opinion of the vast majority of the Black family, bar a select few. Ironic really, Andra mused, that the last three members of the Black family to display one of the Ancestral gifts, their latent Metamorphmagus ability, had been Nymphadora, her son Teddy, and Ari herself (those that the _pure, well-bred_ members of their _esteemed_ lineage would have disdained as half-bloods, unworthy of their ancestry). Their face-off was interrupted by Teddy's semi-bellow of frustration at their lack of haste in joining him. Duly summoned, Ari smirked as she laid her arm across Andra's shoulders in a supportive hug while they walked over to the fidgeting child.

"Yes, there is absolutely no decorum involved in this endeavour whatsoever, but-" here she paused to wink at her reluctant companion, "-I'm prepared to bet that it won't be even close to as awful an experience as you're thinking. You know, if you let go of the impropriety of it all, you may actually find yourself enjoying it."

Andra looked at her askance, clearly doubtful. Ari just smiled. They reached Teddy's side just as one of the artists at the stall approached him. "How can I help you today, young man?" Andra discreetly handed over one of the certified vouchers that came with their entry-passes to the zoo, entitling them to partake of as many of the exhibits and activities as there were coupons without paying extra. The young man smiled at her gratefully, before turning back to Teddy. "How about you come along with me, and we'll take a look at all the models we have, so you can find the one you want."

Taking a peek at the ticket in his hand, and clearly noting that it was entitled 'Family' rather than 'Single', he looked over his shoulder at Ari and Andra as they followed behind. Gesturing with his free hand, he silently asked if either, or both, intended to make use of the coupon with Teddy. Both nodded, Andra with a rather pinched look while Ari grinned toothily, decidedly unsympathetic to the elder's discomfort. His eyes crinkled in amusement as he fought off a grin of his own, before twisting his head back around to point out for Teddy's benefit the range of different and colourful animal motifs carefully painted onto the plaster headpieces placed atop the counter beside the door.

Teddy wandered over, completely engrossed in his task of having to decide just which one of the icons before him that he wanted to have marked on his own face. The attendant, seeing him well engaged in his own little world, seized the chance to hammer out the finer details with the pair. "There are a couple of options in how we can do this: I'm happy to work with all of you one at a time if you prefer; or you can select any of the others, once they're available, to fix you up in the design you've chosen." He inclined his head to the portrait bench, inviting them to browse and make their selection.

By the time they crossed the short distance, Teddy had made up his mind, pointing it out to them with a gleeful chirp, "That one, _definitely_. It has to be that one."

Ari regarded the detailed image thoughtfully, before eyeing Teddy with an amused smirk curling her lips. "How very – appropriate, Mr. Lupin."

Teddy sniggered, looking at the male artist and indicating his choice – a heavily stylised representation of a cobra's head, depicted on the model with the jaws flared wide to display improbably long white fangs, and scales of green and black with red-and-yellow slitted eyes. With that, the man indicated his workspace, complete with two stools and a small table covered in the tools of his trade – brushes, cleaning cloths and paints in a variety of hues. While he set to work on Teddy's face, Ari considered her options – the snarling tiger's face was a clever, vivid creation, but she was also drawn by the exotically drawn form of a leopard, striking and imperious. She approved.

Decided, she looked in Andra's direction before huffing out in exasperation – evidently, her companion believed that if she dragged her heels long enough, she might be able to get out of it. Ari put paid to that idea smartly, strutting over to murmur in her ear, "Either you choose, or I do. And you may not necessarily like what I pick, so get cracking – after all, you wouldn't want to disappoint him now," jerking her head to indicate Teddy. "Would you?"

Andra pursed her lips in disapproval, muttering to herself inaudibly – if Ari hadn't known better, she might have said the woman was _pouting_, of all things. But of course, _Blacks_ never pouted. It Just Wasn't Done. "I cannot see how it makes any difference really; I'M not the one who has to view the final result all day long. I merely have to bear the thought of it being there at all," Andra remarked coolly. "By the way, what did you have in mind for me?"

Ari just gestured lazily with one finger, her gleaming eyes akin to those of a self-satisfied cat right before it pounced on a juicy mouse. Following the line of her finger, Andra all but hissed in outrage, "You _cannot_ be serious!" following that with a hastily raised hand to forestall Ari's playful rejoinder. "Yes, yes, I know who _Sirius_ is, dearest Ari – I may be old but I am not prone to dementia. As much as the TWO children under my care do seem to do all in their considerable power to drive me to distraction!"

Ari simply rolled her eyes expressively, grinning at the oft-repeated reference to her supposed immaturity, comparable to Teddy's tender years. "But you make it so easy, Andra, giving me ammunition like that," she quipped, grinning. "After all, I _can't_ make lemonade without lemons, even with magic."

"Be that as it may, I am NOT about to be painted AS a peacock, even if I have to be embellished LIKE one." Andra glared over at the garish illustration of the flaunting avian. The brightly coloured design was complete with a pair of painted eye-feathers that, on an actual person's face, were clearly designed to start one on either side from the middle of the forehead all the way down to the chin.

"Clearly, then, you DO have a stance on the matter, even if it's merely what you DON'T want," Ari spoke simply. Andra groaned at having fallen into the trap so easily. "So, best if you crack on with it then," Ari waved her arm, encompassing the display in front of them, "And _I _will find someone to give me MY 'Extreme Makeover'." Suiting action to words, she moved off towards one of the workstations, occupied by a woman with a welcoming smile indicating her availability as Ari approached. Andra pivoted back to the offerings with a sigh, setting her mind to the task at hand. Never let it be said that a Black shirked their obligation to family, she thought wryly.

She picked up on the flicker of motion from the corner of her eye, half-turning her head to watch a middle-aged lady move toward her, head tilted in polite inquiry with a small smile on her mouth. "Having trouble deciding?" she asked kindly. Andra smiled back half-heartedly.

"I am here with my cousin and grandson," tilting her head to indicate both Teddy and Ari. "And it seems that I cannot possibly attend the zoo without seizing the opportunity to be decorated as some manner of wild creature."

The lady smiled widely at Andra's clear unease before she replied, "I know it seems rather more childish than anything else, but the young ones do get a great deal of pleasure from it – especially if it's done as a family pastime. And besides-" she lowered her voice, stepping forward and inclining her head to Andra's in a conspiratorial fashion. "-Doing something you feel is just a tad ridiculous like this early on in the day . . ." she paused until Andra angled her own head to show her full attention. ". . . Means that you now have the perfect excuse to decline some of your less-preferred activities later on – maybe the rollercoaster isn't quite your cup of tea?" she waved her hand expressively, leaving it open to Andra's interpretation. "Anything along those lines, it's all up to you as to how you choose to take advantage of your circumstances."

They smiled at each other in perfect accord – here, Andra thought approvingly, was a woman who knew how to play the game. The woman, whose nametag identified her as Margaret, curled her fingers in an inviting gesture to beckon Andra over to a particular section of the exhibited models. This seemed to be the location where the avian sculptures were to be found – including, Andra inwardly shuddered, that awful peacock. "My cousin has already pointed out the, er, colourful portrait of the peacock – that I declined – if that was what you wished to show me, madam," she stated swiftly, to prevent any such suggestion.

Margaret's eyebrows flew up in surprise as she looked towards the image in question, before she shook her head in bemusement. "I'm sure she was only joking, ma'am, I just don't see that suiting you at all. In fact . . ." she beckoned again, inviting Andra closer to where she stood as she picked up one of the plaster moulds to show her directly. ". . . THIS was what I thought of when I saw you standing there."

"Oh!" Andra exclaimed, in stunned admiration. "THAT is just lovely."

And it truly was lovely, a beautifully crafted image in soft tones of gold and brown, with subtle highlights of copper and creamy white throughout. An owl, wise and serene, stared back at her appreciative eyes. She looked up at Margaret, beaming at her contentedly, completely assured for the first time that this wasn't, after all, simply going to be an exercise in humility. "Do you really like it?" Margaret questioned her, seeking her honest feelings on the matter. Andra smiled.

"I love it. I am Andra, by the way." She proffered her hand, which Margaret gripped firmly in her free palm.

"And I'm Margaret. It's lovely to meet you, Andra." Thus introduced, Margaret gestured towards what was apparently her table, well organised and free of clutter and stains – Andra approved immensely. "Shall we get started, then?"

"By all means, lead the way."

*T*C*o*F*W*

The rollercoaster had been rather fun, Andra reflected later as they sat in one of the zoo's open refreshment areas. They were dining on hotdogs with onions, pickles and relish (Teddy); spicy nachos with melted cheese, sour cream and extra chilli on the side (Ari); and ham, cheese and cucumber sandwiches, cut into dainty quarters (Andra), all of them lazily savouring their meals and the noonday sunshine.

The lion exhibit and aviary were also very enjoyable, but she had flatly refused to take part in the 'Jungle Walk', as it was called – she did not care how safe they said it was, she had absolutely no intention of wandering around a aeries of earthen paths lined by trees, where capuchin monkeys and striped lemurs and the like apparently roamed freely. They swung through the trees, racing across the grounds within the vast enclosure, and were apparently quite happy to get up close and personal with the human visitors. According to the brochure, they walked alongside and clambered all over the people they saw in search of a reward – bags of animal pellets were handed to each visitor as they entered the exhibit, to offer to the friendly creatures. No, thank you very much, but NO.

Swallowing the last bite of her sandwich she dabbed at her lips with a napkin before briskly wiping her hands clear of any last, lingering crumbs. She waited patiently for the others to finish their meal. Her warning eye, directed across the wooden bench at Teddy, was enough to dissuade him from taking an overly large bite of his dog and thus risk all manner of spillage – he already possessed a rather impressive reddish ring around his mouth from the smeared relish, as Ari smirked around her mouthful of stringy cheese and crunchy corn chips beside him.

"Do not encourage him, please."

"I didn't say anything!"

"That would be the issue," Andra stated dryly. "You SHOULD say something when you see him acting like a jarvey." Ari sniggered at the clear reference to their visit to the magical side of the zoo – jarveys could swear with an expertise that would put a sailor to blush.

Having polished off her own meal, Ari wiped her mouth and fingers before replying, "I know, but he's not bad with remembering all the rules most of the time – and nobody's perfect anyway."

Teddy's sudden loud, gusty belch underlined her statement with an emphatic punctuation – Ari burst into raucous giggles as Andra exclaimed over him in high dudgeon. One utterly scathing lecture later, with a suitably chastened Teddy and a mostly sober Ari – a roguish glint in her eye belying her pose of refined affront to Teddy's 'rude, undisciplined outburst' – Teddy had swallowed his very last crumb. Any temptation to lick his fingers clean died a quick and painful death as he recalled his grandmother's earlier display of controlled ire.

*T*C*o*F*W*

The next few hours saw them rambling all over, visiting the elephants' and meerkats' enclosures as well as picking up a few souvenirs along the way. Teddy, having carefully held back on his request in order to allow his grandmother a cooling-off period, made a bid for sweets. Specifically, for fairy-floss. Andra gave in – those puppy-dog eyes were practically a lethal weapon that the boy exploited without mercy – smiling at his cheer of excitement. The trio wandered off again, all carrying a stick laden with the frothy treat, heading towards the building that housed the zoo's resident population of reptiles – land-dwelling and aquatic alike – with a chamber at the back accommodating a huge, pressurised tunnel under the artificial ocean environment where several varieties of marine life swam, paddled and weaved through the waters.

Before that though, the landlocked descendants of dragons and dinosaurs awaited them. Viewing the world from behind thick, clear glass, most were placid and disinterested in what they saw, preferring to conserve their energy until their next feeding time. Until Ari walked in. Slowly but steadily, the subtle and barely perceptible buzz seemed to move from cage to cage, in pace with Ari's movement through the building as they observed the ophidian beings behind the clear barriers. Unless one happened to be closely watching, none would really take any notice of the fact that she appeared to be communicating with them – and that they seemed to respond in turn.

Lizards raced up to the front of the glass walls, placing their clawed or padded toes against the barrier as they peered at her with large eyes, flicking their tongues and blinking their eyelids rapidly. Snakes raised their heads to observe her, one rather gorgeous specimen – a King Cobra – flared its hood and swayed slightly, almost as if it were dancing. Teddy was delighted. Finally they moved along into the aquarium as, deprived of the object of their fascination, the inhabitants of the glass chambers slowly slipped back into their usual somnolent states.

The tunnel was dim, an eerie silvery glow from recessed niches in the floor leaving the major source of illumination to emanate from the main attraction – the waters above their heads softly blue from the waterproof lanterns attached to the outer structure of the underwater passage. Sauntering along at their own pace – having briefly considered, and then rejected the idea of taking one of the guided tours – they were lost in a watery wonderland.

There, off to the right, a tiger shark patrolled the waters, lazily fanning its tail from side to side; above them a school of silvery tuna darted this way and that; Ari spied, and pointed out to a fascinated Teddy, the head of a suspicious grouper – the only part of it that they could see – peering out from a hollow in a rock formation. Several sea snakes writhed and twisted like long, graceful ribbons along the currents, popping up to the surface every so often to take in oxygen. Further on through the trio meandered seeing playful dolphins, vividly coloured angelfish, shy seahorses and large-shelled crustaceans crawling about the sandy floor. By the time they hit the exit, Teddy was starting to droop in contented exhaustion – he'd had a wonderful day out with two of his favourite females in the whole world, but he was ready to go home and have his dinner before crawling into bed for the night.

Recognising the signs of a drowsy, possibly soon to be cranky, child they shepherded him back towards the main gates. Passing through, Ari and Andra swiftly debated their options: Knight Bus, Apparition, train or Floo. Andra firmly squashed any notion of her ever riding on 'that filthy contraption' (over the span of the day, she had managed to find an acceptable designation for the Knight Bus without needing to resort to crudity, after all) ever again; Apparition was NOT Teddy's favourite way to travel, and he was now over-tired and inclined to be fractious; walking several blocks to locate the nearest public Floo had them wincing at the very thought, they had been on their feet for the larger portion of the day already; and the entrance to the underground railway line was only half way down the block. 'Train,' was the unanimous vote, and off they went.

*T*C*o*F*W*

Once they reached their final stop, Teddy was snoring contentedly, curled up on Ari's lap like an oversized cat. With a bit of careful manoeuvring, she managed to perch him on her hip as he woke up just long enough to wrap his arms around her neck, his legs about her waist, and have his head nestled under her chin before he was out again. Andra took command of their handbags, their assortment of parcels and bags from the zoo had previously been placed discreetly within as they waited for the train.

At home, Andra opened the door and waved Ari in with her dozing burden. They quietly discussed whether or not to wake him for dinner; the decision was snatched away from them, as Teddy suddenly let out a particularly loud snore and jolted himself awake. "What . . ." he peered around blearily, "When did we get home?" he queried in confusion.

"Just now," Ari replied soothingly. In her experience a suddenly awoken Teddy could be a bit of a trial at times, bewildered and nervous until he remembered where he was. She settled him gently on his feet before her, holding on to his shoulders until she was sure of his balance.

"Come on, Twitch." The familiar, fond nickname originated from his endearing habit of screwing up his nose before using his Morphing ability. It didn't matter which part of himself he was altering at the time – face, hair, or body – his nose was a dead giveaway that something had shifted.

"Ari!" he whined, screwing up his face. "I'm not a baby anymore, and I HATE that name – even more than . . ." shuddering in disgust, ". . . _Edward_."

She sniggered softly, walking past to go to the stairs and head for the kitchen to let Winky know that they were home. "Then you'd better stop TWITCHING every time you Morph, hadn't you?" she could practically _feel _him rolling his eyes at her back, before he pounded up the steps behind her, Andra's admonition to wash up, _properly_, before dinner floating in the air after him as she retired to her rooms to do the same. The face-paint, regardless of how much enjoyment they had all gained from it, had to go. It was just now gone 5 o'clock in the afternoon, and with tea generally being served at 6:30pm during the summer months, there was time for each of them to relax and pursue their own interests before gathering in the dining room for the evening meal.

Andra would most likely take the opportunity to rest a little before eating, though certainly not old by the standards of the Magical World with their tendency toward extended life-spans, she wasn't a fresh young ingénue either. After Ari spoke with Winky, Teddy snagged her attention as she walked back to the stairwell to ascend the next flight up on her way to her suite. He sought, and gained, her permission to use the entertainment room on the first floor – a heavily soundproofed area of the residence that was Warded to prevent magic being cast in order to be able to use a wide range of Muggle technology – with conditions.

First, she held up a finger, he was to wash up as his grandmother had requested.

Second of all, a second finger joined the first, no tampering with the equipment (use was only allowable strictly as the manufacturer had intended).

Third, another finger shot up, soundproofed or not, he would be QUIET, as every other occupant was going to be otherwise engaged in personal pastimes, and did not wish to be disturbed.

Finally, holding up a fourth finger beside the rest, when called for tea there would be no complaining, whining or other protests given and _everything_ was to be put back just as he had found it.

They solemnly shook on the deal before he scampered off toward his destination, as she made her own way upstairs to snuggle into her plush bedside recliner with a book. As the light faded through her northern-facing window, she clicked her fingers to light the chandelier above her softly.

*T*C*o*F*W*

Drawn from her perusal of the fictional novel in her lap by a sudden _CRACK!_ she looked up blankly for a moment before hearing a knock on her door. Softly, she called out, "Come in, Winky." Only a house-elf would bother to Apparate right outside someone's bedroom door, and then knock. She focussed on Winky's apologetic features as the elf entered, nervously twisting her long ears between anxious fingers. It was a holdover from her days of working as the personal house-elf for the Crouch family, a nervous habit that they had tried to gently break her of, but never quite succeeded.

Small wonder, really, considering her previous master (the harsh and domineering Barty Crouch, Senior), who had held the crazed Death Eater son that was named for him – Barty Crouch, Junior – tucked away like a dirty little secret in the family home for years under the Imperius Curse. All the lies and deceptions that the poor elf had been forced to partake in had taken their toll; it was a wonder that she was even sane, let alone still capable of serving any other family as their elf.

"What is it, Winky?" she asked kindly, her tone reassuring the twitchy elf that her sudden intrusion had not upset her younger mistress.

"Miss Arielle, there be a Floo call for you, it be your friend, Miss Granger." The elf announced, visibly calmer now that Ari had shown no displeasure. Ari glanced at the small mahogany clock on her bedside table and noted with vague shock that it was already 6:17pm. Lost in her enjoyment of her book, the time had slipped right by her.

"It's just as well you stopped in, Winky." She claimed, shifting back to face the industrious little help-mate with a rueful smile. "I completely lost track of the time."

Winky bowed her head courteously with a broad smile. "Winky is pleased to have been of service, Miss Arielle."

Ari stood up, stretching her slightly cramped muscles in a long, slow flexion of her supple limbs. Walking to the door, she patted Winky on the head fondly on her way past, speaking over her shoulder. "Thanks, Winky. I'll make sure everyone gets to the dining room on time after I speak with Hermione."

"Winky has no doubts on Miss Arielle's power to gather everyone right where she wants them," was the sprite's cheeky retort just prior to Disapparating back to the kitchen, before Ari could react. Biting her lip in amused vexation (Winky had quite the sense of humour, once you got past the layers of servile compliance that tended to characterise the majority of house-elves), she made her way down to the formal reception hall on the first floor, where the residence's main Floo connection was situated.

The mantel over the fireplace had a panel with several runic commands inscribed on it, each designed to respond to a specific set of circumstances. One command functioned in a manner not unlike call forwarding on a telephone – if a Floo summons went unanswered over a prolonged period, the runes activated and redirected the call to a corresponding panel in the kitchen to alert Winky that someone was trying to make contact with the household.

When Hermione called via the Floo, no one was in the room to respond, so the alert was transferred through to Winky in the kitchen to have her respond to the call. As a known friend of Miss Arielle and a person whose name was present on the list of those allowed to contact the household directly; Winky had accepted the call and greeted Miss Granger with polite respect, informing her that she would let Miss Arielle know directly of her call.

Ari swept into the hall, crossing the marbled floor to kneel on the rug in front of the Floo to smile at the slightly distorted, greenish features of her best friend in the flames. "Hermione. I wasn't expecting you to call tonight?"

"Sorry if I disturbed you, Ari."

"Not at all. You know you're always welcome around here."

"I know. And I think I STAY welcomed by not wearing it out and making a constant pest of myself."

"Balls!" was Ari's succinct, inelegant response. Hermione snorted in lively glee.

"Better not let Andromeda catch you talking like that – she'll have a royal fit. One worthy of the . . ."

". . . Noble and Most Ancient House of Black!" they finished in harmony before giggling like the juvenile teenage girls they no longer were, if they ever had been – war had a way of making you grow up fast, too fast. "I didn't want to bother you last night seeing as it was Teddy's first night back from Hogwarts, but I figured I'd get in touch today after your zoo trip to get all the latest gossip from our old stomping grounds," Hermione referring with marked affection to the ancient castle where they had learned so much about magic. Ari had her own fondness for the place, for all the bad times they'd experienced there, there had also been a lot of joy associated with her years inside the ancient stone walls – and outside as well on its sprawling grounds.

She hummed in disagreement, remarking, "You'll be more up-to-date than I am, I'm sure you received at least double the amount of owl-post from Teddy than I did!" she was pouting slightly in disgust, whose godson was he, after all?

Hermione sniggered a little, acknowledging the truth in that. "And Draco likely got twice as much as the both of us, combined! He just couldn't wait to tell him everything about what it was like in the 'Viper's Pit' these days." A clear allusion to the Slytherin dorms at the school, noted during THEIR generation for the deep emphasis on the Slytherin House colours of emerald and silver, along with darkened, enamelled panels hanging on the walls alongside gloomy artwork and being furnished in a heavily gothic-inspired fashion. Ari and Hermione knew this from personal experience, despite having been sorted into Slytherin's traditional rival house of Gryffindor. One of their many misadventures – this one taking place during their second year – had seen them sneaking into the Slytherin's common room in disguise.

Suddenly impatient with being crouched forward on her knees in front of the fireplace, Ari gestured invitingly to Hermione. "Bugger all this kneeling around! It's teatime around here so come on through and join us, the others certainly won't mind, and Teddy will love it! Having his dearly beloved Miss Hermione right on the spot to chatter about Charms, huddle about Herbology, trade tales of Transfiguration . . ."

"Enough! Enough with the elementary alliteration please, I surrender," Hermione called out, jokingly lifting her hands in a gesture of submission. "I hope Winky doesn't mind having an unexpected guest for tea."

"She knows us too well, Mio," Ari used the affectionate diminutive reassuringly. "Trust me, she's already put an extra portion into the oven – she'll be most upset if you _don't_ come!"

Hermione laughed out a sigh of agreement – the little bonded servant DID know them, but she checked anyway for politeness' sake. "Just make sure you ask her, though. It's only common courtesy, after all."

Ari nodded as Hermione cut off the Floo-call, in preparation for transporting herself through the magical flames – Ari stood quickly to access the master list placed on the mantel, tapping her finger on Hermione's name and seeing it glow before she tapped a set of runes on the command panel. This particular array governed admittance into the residence via the Floo – if you weren't permitted entry by an authorised member of the household you didn't get in, plain and simple.

Any attempt at an unauthorised entry set off an alarm that alerted first Winky, and then was set to reverberate throughout the whole house if Winky hadn't first responded to the alarm and seen to it that there was either no threat, or acted to disarm any hostile force that may have broken through the Wards – highly improbable, the Black's Ancestral Wards were known to be lethal when under attack. But still, all magic cast could be broken eventually, it just depended on how much time and effort you were prepared to expend. Once satisfied that the household was safe, Winky could disable the alert at the source.

Winky might have been just one elf, small and seemingly harmless; but Ari had seen elves who were highly motivated in the defence of their homes and their masters – elves were not powerless unless they themselves CHOSE to be. She would never underestimate them, and would always respect their abilities and tireless, often thankless, service to their bonded families. She called Winky, hearing the crack of her Apparition as the elf appeared in the room. "Yes, Miss Arielle, how may Winky serve?"

"Winky, would you mind terribly if we had another guest for tea? I know it's _very_ short notice, and I do apologise, but I've invited Hermione over for tea. I thought she and Teddy could catch up."

Bobbing her head excitedly so that her long, batlike ears flapped madly, almost slapping her in the face on every downward swing, Winky clapped her hands excitedly. "Oh, Miss Arielle. Young Master Teddy will be ever so happy to see his friend! Winky was so bold as to hope that Miss Arielle would have Miss Granger for dinner, and put on more food. Winky is ever so happy that it won't be going to waste."

"Now Winky, we would never waste your lovely cooking, it would be a crime to see your talents spoiled," Ari replied. "If there was too much left over after you'd had your share, we'd simply have bubble-and-squeak the next day for lunch – you know that." Just then, the Floo lit up again in a _whoosh_ of green flame, as a form appeared inside spinning madly before slowing down as the flames slowly died away, revealing Hermione Granger in the flesh.

Wild brunette curls worn halfway down her back framed a pretty, strong-boned face with intelligent bitter-chocolate eyes. Of average height with a curvy frame, Hermione could walk into a room and capture the attention of all within it immediately; she simply had the intangible gift of _presence_.

Stepping out of the fireplace, she brushed off any stray soot on her robes as she went to Ari, crushing her in her embrace. They exchanged fond greetings – once Ari's battered lungs were able to absorb oxygen adequately once more – as Hermione acknowledged Winky kindly.

Winky bobbed her head happily in Hermione's direction – despite her rather strange notions (freeing elves and having them work for pay, preposterous! Blasphemy!) Winky nearly rolled her eyes and snorted at the very idea of such a scandalous arrangement – Winky was genuinely fond of Miss Arielle's loyal friend, she had a good, loving heart, and she spoiled Master Teddy with affectionate abandon. Yes, Miss Granger was good people, Winky thought to herself with an inward nod, before she shook herself back to the present, dismissing herself with a respectful bow and Disapparating.

Ari led the way from the reception room, indicating to Hermione that Teddy was to be found in the entertainment room if Hermione should like to fetch him for tea. Hermione would indeed like. Ari grinned in anticipation as she headed down the steps to find Andra reclined on the couch in her personal parlour – no one, not even Teddy, was bold enough to enter Andra's bedroom without her express consent. Nymphadora Tonks hadn't inherited her ruthless streak from her laidback, Hufflepuff alumnus father, after all. She was dozing lightly as Ari entered, waking as she laid her hand gently on the older woman's shoulder.

"Dinner will be ready once we're seated, Andra." Ari explained her presence softly as Andra pulled herself upright, sitting momentarily to allow the last vestiges of sleep clear out of her mind, and standing once she was fully awake. "We also have an extra place at the table tonight, I've invited Hermione over," Ari tacked on the last as they moved towards the door.

"Oh? Teddy will be ecstatic," Andra replied as they navigated the stairs.

"She Floo-ed earlier to chat and I made an impulse decision – shocking, I know," Ari laughed as Andra cocked her brow. "I'm hoping Teddy won't be cranky with his godmother-in-all-but-name around . . ." Teddy's sudden shrill scream of delight echoed through the house, clearly Hermione had alerted him to her presence. ". . . To keep him grounded," Ari finished drily.

"Grounded? If there wasn't a ceiling above his head, he'd have propelled himself straight to the moon by now," Andra quipped as they waited at the door to the first floor parlour for the others to join them. Their impending presence was announced with Teddy's piping voice gabbling away happily to Hermione as they ambled down the hall, Hermione smiling in greeting to Andra as they joined them.

Teddy flung himself at Ari, hugging her waist as he announced in ringing tones, "Look, Aunty Ari, Miss Hermione's come 'round for tea."

"Really? Why Hermione . . ." grinning at each other over Teddy's head, ". . . I didn't know you were coming, did Winky let you in?"

Teddy caught onto their gammon and rolled his eyes, releasing Ari's waist and taking his grandmother's hand to escort her through to the dining room. "Great! Just great, now there are TWO of them to gang up on me tonight." Andra chuckled warmly as Teddy pulled out her chair for her, and seated herself as he tucked in her chair again before he sat down to her right, huffily drawing himself in and turning up his nose. Ari strolled through the door with the whimsical twinkle in her eyes echoed in Hermione's as she followed behind, seating themselves in place.

"Relax, Twitch . . ."

". . . Tonight is about our friends." Hermione finished Ari's statement.

"We're finally even now . . ."

". . . Two Gryffindors, and two Slytherins sitting at one table without bloodshed – this IS a special occasion." It was Ari's turn to finish where Hermione had left off.

Teddy's head swivelled between them, eyes narrowed, before he leaned back, crossed his thin arms over his chest and twitched his nose. His hair suddenly turned a bright shade of ginger, reminiscent of – "You two are as bad as the twins." The twins in question, being the self-entitled 'dynamic duo' – Fred and George Weasley, identical down to their last freckle and older brothers to Teddy's late godfather, Ron.

Ari swallowed around the lump in her throat – an ugly mixture of bitterness, grief, and a raw, seething hatred that arose at every mention, every memory of Ron and of the Weasley clan in general. She had LOVED them so, and nearly all of them had seemingly found it so easy to betray her trust. The twins themselves and Ginny had been loyal to the core, to _her,_ but the worst part had been the revelation that Ron – the gangly, hot-headed youth that she had called her friend ever since their first year in Hogwarts – while steadfast and committed at the end, hadn't started out that way.

*T*C*o*F*W*

_Everything she had ever said, every secret she had offered to him, __IN CONFIDENCE __had been unerringly reported to others, right up until the end of her fifth year. Her faith was repaid in duplicity, her right to privacy denied at every turn by those who wanted to use her for their own selfish, greedy ends._ _Upon discovering his treachery she had broken down and wept bitterly in the arms of her heretofore rival Draco Malfoy, who had revealed the ugly facts to her in such a way that she could not deny them, decry them, as mere hearsay coming from someone she considered an unreliable source._

_Coming on the heels of the death of Sirius in the Department of Mysteries, Ari couldn't cope – she collapsed into Draco's embrace crying, nearly screaming, out in her anguish. He held her closely, his cheek resting atop her head as she howled and thrashed like a child in the midst of a furious tantrum. If only it were that easy to deal with, this pain was deeper, sharper, and could not be appeased with an offer of sweets or bribes for good behaviour. He held on silently throughout the storm of her broken heart as she subsided finally, lying quietly in his arms. Then, and only then, did he speak, reminding her of her __REAL_ _friends: Hermione, Neville, Luna, even the red-haired Weaslette . . . the list went on if only she would see it . . . __HIM__._

_She looked up at him, tear-brightened emerald eyes piercing him as he spoke of an end to the tyranny of the Dark Lord and his twisted followers, of the need for allies within His Inner Circle in order to defeat Him from the inside out. _She listened.

*T*C*o*F*W*

"The twins have got nothing on us," Hermione proclaimed, buffing her nails idly against her robes.

Ari grinned toothily. "They got their best ideas from US, and we were the pranksters to watch out for in Hogwarts. The only difference was that we rarely, if ever, got caught, because the greatest prank of all was pulling the wool over everyone's eyes – with the twins on the loose, they were suspected for every trick. No matter who it was that was REALLY behind it.

"And of course, the Prankster's Code of Honour meant that you never ratted out your fellow jokesters, so even if you got caught for something you didn't do, you had to wear the punishment without complaint.

"It didn't mean that they never tried to get us back on the sly, though. George swears that he couldn't get the frog spleen out from under his fingernails for a month after the 'Great Undies Raid of '93'. Snape was always diabolical when it came to detention, especially if you were sorted into Gryffindor."

With that, the tone for the evening was set, even Andra relaxed and got into the spirit – sharing stories from her years at Hogwarts, laughing as raucously as any of them at some of the funnier points of their tales. By the end of dessert – a decadent strawberry mousse – everyone was pleasantly stuffed, and Teddy was all but comatose, sprawled loose-limbed and utterly lax in his chair.

"I think someone's ready for bed." Ari claimed, smiling at the heavy-eyed boy even as he struggled to wake himself up a bit.

"No Aunt Ari, I can stay up with Miss Hermione . . ."

". . . Cheer up, possum," Hermione spoke up with brisk sympathy. "We have the whole summer holidays to find time to spend together. You know, I'll bet by the time you're due back at Hogwarts for your second year, you'll be absolutely sick of seeing my face."

"Never," was the drowsy mumble. "I always like seeing you, Miss Hermione – you make me laugh."

"Well, now I certainly know my place." Hermione laughed as Ari rounded the table to prod and encourage Teddy out of his chair. "Free entertainment for Master Teddy Lupin."

Teddy grinned tiredly, leaning over to brush his grandmother's cheek with his own before all but falling into Hermione's lap as he went to hug her tight. She hugged him back, soundly smooching his cheek as he somehow found the energy to wriggle indignantly. "Hey!" he protested loudly – kisses from girls were still icky in Teddy's book, even his special girls.

Letting go as he scrambled up, Hermione exchanged grins with the other two women as he frantically scrubbed at his cheek to remove all traces of the dreaded 'girly cooties' that all females apparently possessed. Ari gently herded him towards the door as he called out a general farewell over his shoulder. Ari looked back to Andra, who mouthed that she and Hermione would be in the parlour when she returned.

**Authors note: Yeah, this chapter had to be cut in half - it was getting into the 10,000 word mark with no end in sight, which for me, is just too much length to hassle with. My next update should be sooner, though, to cover the rest of the evening and a **_**very **_**interesting discussion about vampires and dreams.**

**Please review and let me know what you think.**

**Enjoy!**


	4. Chapter 3: Witches, Wolves And Vampires

**Disclaimer: See first chapter.**

******Author's Note (1): This chapter has been edited heavily. Please re-read if you read this prior to November 28th, 2014.******

Chapter 3: Witches, Wolves & Vampires (Oh my!)

Having safely tucked Teddy into bed and watched as he fell asleep practically before his tousled head hit his fluffy pillows, Ari was back down into the parlour to find the two witches engrossed in a conversation –about _vampires_ of all things. Sinking into a recliner, she simply relaxed and listened as Hermione recounted a tale from her work as a Liaison to the British Ambassador for the Magical Nations.

It really was the ideal career for the driven, highly intelligent young woman: her passion for learning as well as her desire to investigate, and potentially improve, the lives of the vast assortment of magical beings within their world was more than satisfied by the requirements of an aide to an international ambassador. The opportunity to travel to other countries under a diplomatic flag, and immerse herself into the magical culture and traditions while not being limited by the diplomatic duties an ambassador was bound to undertake, was not to be discounted either.

Hermione had just recently returned last month from a placement in Germany, based primarily in Frankfurt and travelling throughout the country, taking in the ethnic diversity and historic customs and rituals carried on by the peoples of modern Magical Germany. Apparently, whilst on a working tour of Dresden, travelling alongside a nomadic dwarven tribe that tended to find places of great artistic significance to settle into for a time, incorporating designs and concepts from the area that appealed to them before moving on; they had encountered a crew from the local vampire population. Ari listened along with Andra as Hermione told the story . . .

*T*C*o*F*W*

_They squared off, with Hermione managing to prove to their satisfaction – and Hermione's own great relief – that, in a supernatural pissing contest, Hermione and her allies could well and truly hold their own. The dwarves, along with Hermione, were invited into a local bar – neutral territory, so the vampires (three females and two males) had declared, to chat and get to know each other. As the night progressed, Hermione had observed an interesting piece of jewellery, a bangle, on Anneke's (one of the females) wrist. What rendered this piece unusual to Hermione was the large chunk of lapis lazuli set in it as only one type of vampire had an affinity with that gemstone, in particular. Those that the British Wizarding World labelled as the _Sange Elevi_, supposedly descended from the very first of their kind – the Originals, the elite _Medeisangui Corte_, rumoured to have been created by Dark blood magic._

_Lapis lazuli, when Enchanted by a witch and worn against the body of a Sangevin (a slang term), guarded the vampire against the sunlight which was lethal to their kind. Anneke seemed to recognise Hermione in turn – if not at first sight then as more of Hermione's past came to light, she had a sudden revelation – proclaiming, "I know her." In front of everyone in the mixed group. "Of her at least, Granger . . ." she looked Hermione over carefully._ "_Of course, Granger was the name of that girl, that _Englisch _girl, who fought in the British Blood War against that supremacist bunch with the stupid name – Death Tasters, or something. She was the ally of their Chosen One, another little girl named Potter. So typical of the _Englisch_, make a mess and expect children to clean up after them." She shook her head in contempt._

_Having established Hermione's credentials as a war heroine, even if she was only _Englisch_, the vampires relaxed further – joking and laughing about having considered the idea of fighting in the war – it was a _Blood_ War__, after all; they never actually spoke of which side they'd intended to fight for, Hermione was careful to note, but they were warned to be distant and neutral in the British conflict by one of the leaders of their world: Klaus._

*T*C*o*F*W*

Ari snapped her head abruptly to Hermione at that, "Klaus?" her swift movement and sudden question catching both females attention as Hermione lifted a brow in query.

"Yeah, they said his name was Klaus. Why?" she caught Ari's eyes, a little puzzled by the faraway expression in them. "What's wrong, Ari?"

"That name, I feel as if I've heard it before – recently." Ari mumbled, only half-aware of the others as she wracked her brains for the vague recollection.

"It's certainly not a common name these days, unless you're in Germany, Switzerland or the like," Hermione commented thoughtfully, brows furrowed as she surveyed her friend, obviously lost in thought.

Suddenly, the metaphorical light-bulb clicked on in Ari's mind. "You won't believe just how random this is, but I had this weird dream last night . . ." she described some of her visions from the previous night, spinning a tale of magic and murder, witches, wolves and vampires (oh my!), and a blonde man named Niklaus who was no mere Vampire alongside of his siblings. Looking back at her companions, she was taken aback slightly to find the pair staring at her with identical expressions of slack-jawed astonishment. "What?" They continued to stare, unblinkingly. "WHAT?"

Andra closed her jaw with a snap, and shook her head in disbelief as Hermione finally recovered enough to croak in awe, "You had a 'nightmare_'_ about a period roughly a thousand years ago, judging by the mode of dress," holding up a hand as Ari nodded unsurely, "Where you saw five siblings – one of whom was named Niklaus – four males, one female, who appear to be vampires."

Ari gestured tensely, "You've hit the highlights so far."

"You had a full-fledged 'vision_'_, in your sleep, about the Originals – THE Original family, in the flesh as it were – a thousand years ago."

Ari slumped back against the headrest, rolling her eyes. "Is there a point to your reiteration of the facts as I have laid them out for you?" Ignoring Andra's slight huff at her discourteousness, Ari closed her eyes. "If there IS a point, feel free to elaborate at any time because I'm a little lost. I've NEVER had a dream like that, not even when . . ." she paused, sharing a loaded glance with Hermione.

". . . Not even when you were sharing a mind with the late, unlamented Thomas Riddle, Junior?" Hermione finished softly.

"And I haven't had any dreams like _those _ever since I turned the snaky bugger into garden compost, either," Ari retorted, suddenly furious. "So why now?" she sat upright again, angry and confused, appealing to them. "Why would I have dreams about people straight out of legend that I've never met, dreams that make me feel like I was actually THERE?"

Andra sighed. "That is not something I can answer on my part, but I do remember something from the Library. I do not know if it will help you, but it could offer more information than we currently have. Excuse me for just one moment, please." She stood and exited the room as they stared after her. Turning back, Ari shrugged to show her incomprehension of the older woman's plans as she hopped up to pace, suddenly filled with nervous energy.

Hermione watched her: stride, halt, and pivot, stalk, stop, then turn and start the cycle over. Finally, slightly dizzy, she decided to ask the question burning on her tongue. "So, seeing as you were _there_, in the dream anyway-" she hastened to add as Ari shot her a look that screamed 'Are you high?', "-What were you thinking when you watched them?"

Ari stopped pacing, exhaling heavily as she considered the question, and how to respond. Her brows knitted together as she struggled to define the whirlwind of emotions that she had experienced throughout the vivid dream. "It's all mixed up – in my mind, in here." She pressed her fisted hand against her chest as though she was trying to keep her heart from bursting through her ribcage. "I loved them, all of them, _so much_.

"So much sadness when I looked at them, the five, and realised that there was someone missing, someone I remembered as being precious to me . . ." she trailed off as her jewel-like eyes met Hermione's deep gaze. ". . . But I don't remember who is missing. I couldn't even tell you if it was a girl or a boy that should have been there alongside them."

Her face suddenly hardened, tightening into unforgiving lines as she spat through tightened lips, "I'm ANGRY, so disappointed with them – how could they? How could they just watch . . ." they were interrupted by Andra's return, holding an old book triumphantly in her hand, waggling it in the air.

"I KNEW it had to be in there somewhere. That library has books on everything, I tell you."

"I thought you didn't like the Black Library, Andra." Ari arched her brows in surprise as Andra laid the bound leather journal across her lap and knelt beside the recliner to flick the pages to the section she'd wanted Ari to see. As ever, when confronted with books, the self-confessed bibliophile Hermione was in. She nestled on the arm of Ari's recliner in order to see the pages as Andra rifled through them.

Stopping on a certain page, she indicated for Ari to read it. Ari saw the page title: Medeisangui Corte – The Origins of the Blood-Born, and beneath the subheading: A History of the Original Family. She looked askance at Andra, who just waved her on. Staring back down at the page she read silently.

'_The New World was filled with great magic, of man and beasts alike, when the Viking couple who would later come to create the blood-cursed Originals sailed to its shores with their young son, over a thousand years ago. Much of the records of that period have been lost over the years, but the legends have remained._

_'Loose pages taken from a private journal, that of a witch identified only as Ayana, form a partial account of the early human lives of the Original family. For Ayana claimed to be a mentor and close confidant of the woman she named as Esther, the wife of Mikael, and the mother to those who would become the vampires of legend._

_'Alongside other families, they built a settlement and lived in peace with their neighbours – men and women who became wolves, savage and predatory, with the rise of the full moon. Alongside their firstborn, they had several other children who survived their infancy, and continued to live in peace – as the full moon ascended in the heavens; the villagers retreated to the safety of the nearby network of caves, waiting out the beasts that roamed the lands._

_'Tragedy struck, and the peace was broken when their youngest son, Henrik . . .'_

"Henrik," Ari murmured to herself, thinking, 'That's who was missing, Henrik was not there,' before returning to the text.

'_. . . W__ho had snuck out of the caves to secretly witness the turning of the werewolves, was carried home bloodied and lifeless in the arms of his older brother, Niklaus, who had accompanied the boy in the hopes of protecting him from his folly – a wish in vain, as it turned out. Henrik was killed, and his family struck down in their shared grief. Soon, the father's mourning switched to thoughts of vengeance against the murderous beasts. Mikael went to his wife, and demanded of her, "Where they are strong, we must be stronger. When they use their speed, we shall be faster. And when they bite, _we will bite back harder_. Speed, agility, senses. Everything must become more than it was."_

_'He asked this of his wife, Esther, and her dear friend Ayana because they were both powerful witches, and surely their combined magic could uncover a solution. Ayana refused, her duty as a servant of nature was clear – the magic that he spoke of turned against nature, his words spoke of Mikael's pride and lust for revenge._

_'Thwarted, Esther was forced to act alone: she created a Spell that called on the power of the sun that granted life to all things; summoned the strength of the great White Oak, a symbol of immortality; and shed a mortal's blood, a potent Charm to bind her family together as one._

_'But, there are rumours that claim that it was not so – some of the pages from Ayana's journal refer to another witch who lived in the wilderness beyond the village's borders. A wild thing herself, fey and reclusive, she rarely entered the village proper unless she was assisting the local coven in rituals and healing. According to Ayana, she was known to help other villagers in times of great need. The extract below is taken directly from a page of Ayana's journal, in reference to this witch . . ._

_'"Anyone who seeks her within the woods may only find her if their need is genuine – for this witch is unlike any other, she is a creature of light, pure and free."_

_'Not much is known about her, not where she came from or how she came to live by the village, nor even whether she may have been the one to perform the spell that birthed the __Medeisangui Corte__, the Blood-Born from whom all lesser __Sange Elevi__, their blood progeny, are descended. But, Ayana claims that she was close to Mikael's sons and daughter, particularly the youngest boy, Henrik, lost to the wolves; and that she disappeared not long after his death, right around the time that the Originals came into being. According to Ayana, no sign of her presence was left in the woods any longer – she had vanished without trace.'_

There was more on the page, but it was an account of the Originals later years once they travelled back to Old-World Europe, so Ari leaned back slowly, processing what she had just read on the page. Hermione stared off into space blankly, trying to make sense of it all. Ari tapped the book suddenly. "Andra, what is this book?"

Andra winced slightly. "A treatise from the Black Family Library on the study, and practice, of Bloode Magick."

Ari groaned in disgust. "Andra..."

"I knew that you would react like this, which is why I waited until you had read it to say anything."

Ari just looked at her. "Can you blame me?" Bloode Magick, indeed. It seemed to follow her around like a bad smell from her earliest days: her mother had, apparently, worked a powerful Charm based on their shared blood to protect her from Voldemort; Lily's _sacrifice_ was used to create the infamous Blood Wards at Privet Drive that had held her prisoner inside that little house of horrors; Lily's sacrificial magic supposedly remained within her blood, alternately saving her (Quirrel), and condemning her (Voldemort's return to a corporeal form was achieved with her stolen blood); as well as acting like a beacon for every supernatural creep and freak she came across.

*T*C*o*F*W*

_In sixth year, the vampire Sanguini had moved toward her like lightning once her scent had drifted to his nose. He'd had her by the throat before anyone had even seen him move, only her swift wand-work ripping him away from her as she blasted him at point-blank range with a full-fledged __Banishing__Charm. It had taken the efforts of a half-dozen strong young males from amongst the party guests – Neville and Draco were two of them – to hold him away from her as he strained to get to her, eyes darkened and fangs extended as he groaned, "The blood, the __BLOOD__, give it to me," over and over. Needless to say, her attendance at Horace Slughorn's Christmas party was short-lived and not merry at all._

_Werewolves had problems with her scent as well – they wanted to eat her, and not in a good way. Apparently, she provoked their most basic, atavistic instincts: fight, feed, and fuck. Remus had explained it to her once, during the Christmas holidays of her fifth year, to try and help her to understand just why he had avoided her urgently for the first part of her third year when he had been the teacher for __Defence Against the Dark Arts__. He had wanted so badly to get to know her, and to let her know him in return, but every time he went near her he felt his wolf side rise up to the surface – trying to strike out, to claim her as prey, to kill and feast. Constantly dosing himself with the Wolfsbane Potion had apparently helped, enough so that by the time she had approached him about anti-Dementor lessons, he was more in control of his inner beast. The Dementors, of course, were a whole other complication – supposedly, her aura attracted the vile creatures by the dozens._

_She shuddered in revulsion; her experiences at the hands of the cold, soul-stealing abominations had left her with a distaste she felt for few other people or species in the world: if she ever discovered a method or device capable of destroying a Dementor, she would not hesitate to employ it to see to the complete extinction of the creatures. She _loathed_ them._

*T*C*o*F*W*

She blinked back to the present as Andra spread her hands in a self-deprecating fashion. "No. I am sure that the entire subject is more than a bit of a sore point for you – considering your history."

Andra didn't know the half of it; she thought wryly, almost no one did. Hermione had most of the facts, but even she wasn't privy to the entire horror story. As much as Ari loved and trusted her friend with just about everything, some secrets were better left unspoken. Ari had always been a very private person, anyway.

She closed the book firmly, handing it over to Hermione with a fond eye-roll at the latter's huff of dismay – she would read anything and everything she could lay her hands on, no matter the topic. Hermione chuffed contentedly, hopping up from her perch to curl back up on the couch with her prize. Humming to herself, she opened it to read through from the start as her companions watched her with knowing amusement.

"Well, that explains it, then." Ari clapped her hands together in an 'Aha' motion.

"It does?" Andra and Hermione chorused in unison, as the latter peered over the top of the book in query.

"Sirius gave me permission to access the family archives back in '95," Ari explained. "I told him I was looking for any information on blood magic that I could lay my hands on. The ultimate goal was to find a way to get myself away from the Dursleys-" here her two listeners gave identical shivers and grimaces of distaste (they had each heard enough on the subject of Ari's so-called relatives to form a highly unfavourable opinion of the family). "-And I figured that if anyone would have that kind of information tucked away, the Blacks would be high on the list, given their history of, err, delving into the more obscure and shadowy Arts," Ari finished.

She shrugged her shoulders casually. "I must have read literally hundreds of texts – and some of them were truly revolting, by the way – on the effects and history of it all, obviously I never found what I was looking for in the end.

"But I must have read that one-" indicating the journal in Hermione's hands, "-And retained just enough of the information subconsciously to give myself the willies."

"But it took over a decade for your, er, _willies_, as you put it, to manifest in a dream?" was Hermione's sceptical rejoinder as she eyed her quizzically.

"If you have another explanation," Ari waved her hand encouragingly. "You perceive me all ears."

Though both Andra and Hermione remained doubtful, no other logical explanation presented itself as a case for demurral, and though Ari's provided scenario was dubious at best, it WAS still possible.

Laughing at Andra's pursed lips as she clearly tried to come up with a rebuttal, Ari swiped her hand through the air as if to cut through the serious atmosphere. "Come on, ladies. Enough with the heavy topics for tonight – it was JUST a dream – Teddy's out for the evening, and there's a Magical Monopoly board set up with the game we still haven't finished from the last time you were here," to Hermione who grinned ruefully. "And if I recall correctly, YOU-" to Andra with a mischievous smirk, "-Found yourself in a bit of a sticky situation on one of my properties," she finished, grinning toothily in anticipation.

Groaning, but gracefully accepting the change of subject nonetheless, they pulled out the game and settled around the coffee table in the centre of the room, ready to engage in spirited combat over the board once more.

The rest of the evening passed with much laughter, banter and gossip as they battled it out in the magical real estate game, wheeling and dealing, no one giving an inch as they competed light-heartedly. They left aside the topic of strange dreams and ancient legends that surely could have no impact on their lives in modern Magical Britain. After all, as Ari had said, it was only a dream...

**A/N: Ooooh, foreshadowing! The next chapter will have a time-skip, and hopefully finally get the plot moving, so fingers crossed. Also, I have used some terms in this chapter that more than likely have most of you scratching your head saying, "WTF?". It's okay to be confused, I've been making up some terms purely for the sake of the story – just check below for the definitions.**

**P.S. In case anyone's wondering about my reference to there being different types of vampires known to the magical world, then there are two for the sake of my fic. The Originals and their descendants, of course, and for the other kind (which I'm making Sanguini a member of) just think of True Blood style vampires – the ones who explode into nasty goo when killed, and the whole "V" blood drug deal.**

**Translations**

Englisch (German): English

Sange Elevi (Romanian): literal Blood Progeny– referencing the later generations of vampires sired and descended from the Originals

Medeisangui Corte (this is my twisted version of some Latin words) _see below_

Medeis: magic. Sanguis: blood, power. Cortus: birth, origin, rising

Basically, my way of referring to how the Originals came into being – magic caused them to arise from their mortal human origins, and be reborn as the very first of their kind, powerful beings driven by their thirst for human blood.


	5. Chapter 4: Enforcer Down

**Disclaimer: See first chapter**

**Author's Note (1): So sorry about the wait for the chapter, ladies and gentlemen. But finally here it is. For those of you who have already read this fic prior to this uploaded chapter, there has been extensive re-editing done for the first 4 chapters - so you might want to go back and re-read. Some parts were cut, and others were added and expanded.**

Chapter Warning_  
>There is a fair bit of gory elements in this one guys, blood, guts and violence, etc. So if that sort of thing makes you queasy, you might want to skip this one. If battles are your thing, however, please read on and tell me what you think. Right? Wrong? Boring? Every opinion counts, guys, believe me - I'm listening to what you're telling me.<em>

Chapter 4: Enforcer Down

Early August 2009

London, England

She was almost gasping for air as she struggled to get free of the tangle of her bedclothes, thrashing and rolling around frantically as she tried desperately to get away from she knew not what. Finally, she was out and off the bed, staring about her room as if she'd never seen it before in her life.

Slowly, her breathing calmed and quieted, and her heart stopped trying to beat straight out of her chest as she stared at her hands held out in front of her, willing them to stop trembling. A convulsive shudder went through her as she remembered her dream – so many emotions crammed into such a short space of time – as though she had lived a lifetime in one night. Snorting out a disbelieving laugh, she shook her head in wonder: ever since the first night when she'd had _that dream_, it had continued, exactly the same every night for the past five weeks. Until last night. Last night, it had changed.

Lying back down on the bed, she turned her head to see the clock. 4:16am. Grumbling in annoyance, she rolled onto her stomach and pulled her pillow over her head – she didn't have to get up for work for another four hours yet, and damned if she was going to let some _stupid dream_ stop her from being rested and ready for the day.

*T*C*o*F*W*

Arielle pushed back from her desk, blowing out a breath in sheer boredom. Generally, she loved her job as an Enforcer for the Magical Agency for Global Investigation against Crime, but at times like these, she wondered why.

The M.A.G.I.C. had come into being after the British Blood War, as it was known on the international scene – Voldemort's recruiting campaign had extended far beyond the British Isles, and his efforts hadn't gone unnoticed. Though many politicians and government officials from other countries had seemed to toe the official Party line – the war was an internal matter, to be handled by the British Ministry of Magic, and certainly no affair of any other magical nation – the reality was, they had known just how close it truly was in the end.

*T*C*o*F*W*

_Thomas Riddle's ambitions were not to be satisfied by the takeover of a mere country – he wanted the world. If the war hadn't ended when it did, then mainland Europe at least was looking down the barrel of a major catastrophe. Pureblood sympathisers and assorted magical beings (especially those labelled as Dark) were forming insurrectionist groups within their respective countries, and even beyond. Some flocked to Great Britain, to fight under the banner of Riddle and the Death Eaters._

_The situation had seemed hopeless – any proposed intervention by the ICW was limited by their lack of a martial force assigned to them in order to back up their sanctions. All magical law enforcement squads were restricted by national borders – a French Auror had no authority inside England or vice-versa, for example, unless he was officially liaised to the British DMLE, in which case his authority would still have been quite provisional and temporary._

_Once the Death Eaters had taken over the Ministry, and set up their own version of government, the circumstances had been dire for any resistance. They were hunted by the full resources of their own Ministry, and outside help was no certainty, not even on an unofficial level. Officially, any military action on British soil by a foreign nation that wasn't approved by the Ministry could be classed as a hostile act, a prelude to war. Almost all of the other magical governments were extremely reluctant to take such drastic measures – and it was hard to blame them._

_Everything changed, once the rebellion was finally finished with the death of Voldemort, at the hands of the then-teenaged Arielle Potter. As relieved as they were to see the conflict over, the idea that a young girl had been placed in the position of having to fight such a battle – and then for her to succeed in the face of overwhelming odds – was something of a slap in the face to the powers-that-be._

_She was invited to attend, and speak, at many international conferences held afterwards alongside others involved in the fight, detailing their experiences throughout the conflict, and its aftermath. From these meetings and the facts revealed therein, the seeds had been sown. The simple fact was that they needed an armed force that was legally empowered to bypass national borders if necessary. Globalisation wasn't a myth anymore – the world was almost literally at one's doorstep now. They already had the Confederation for international relations and diplomatic issues – a squad dedicated to enforcing international regulations and the rights of all magical citizens surely wasn't so farfetched._

_Thus, the __**M**__agical __**A**__gency for __**G**__lobal __**I**__nvestigation against __**C**__rime was born. It took years, but they finally got there in the end. By early 2002, the first stages of the program were up and running. Law officials already serving in their respective nation's DMLE were recruited for their individual skills and qualities to become international enforcement Officers. Each magical nation in the ICW was represented by mid-2003, and generally, their country of origin was where each Officer was officially based. For the trainee recruits, before they were promoted as full Officers, each were set to undergo an intensive training and evaluation program to determine their suitability for the profession. There were many aspects: combat techniques; weapons training; physical and psychological assessments, amongst several other tests._

_There were two main roles within the organisation once you had passed: Agents were investigators, for the most part, taking cases within their assigned region that were suspected of having possible links to other countries. Also, any matter brought to the attention of the ICW involving two or more nations, and was deemed serious enough, could be referred to the Agency for further investigation._

_An Enforcer, on the other hand, could be compared to a Hit-Wizard. They actively hunted the witches, wizards and creatures that were designated as suspects in violent crimes, those who were considered too dangerous to remain at large for too long, posing a threat to the general public. There was some overlap, of course, between the two factions, but most of the Officers in such cases simply decided to share duties. They analysed the facts pertaining to the issue and hopefully, in matters involving serious crimes, finally gained the evidence and opportunity that they needed to apprehend the offenders._

*T*C*o*F*W*

Arielle's career, much like Hermione's, had afforded her many opportunities to travel to other countries on an official passport, and she had taken full advantage of her chance to see other places and meet other people, whether magical or not. She had forged lasting relationships with many of them, forming a network of allies and friends that she had called upon in the past for assistance in her work, and offering her support and influence in return when needed.

Gilderoy Lockhart may have boasted in his books of: Gadding with Ghouls, Marauding with Monsters, and of death-defying Voyages with Vampires etc, but Arielle had actually lived the experience. She had both bonded, and battled, with Banshees in Berlin; trash-talked in Tuscany with Titan Trolls; and vanquished _Vingt-Et-Un _with vampires in Vegas. How was that for advanced alliteration, Mr Lockhart, thank you very much?

When a MAGIC Officer wasn't officially assigned to a case, they were still required to act as law enforcement officials under the aegis of their local Ministry, in Arielle's case, this was the British DMLE. She had a minimum requirement of 15 hours per week that she had to report in person to the Ministry as a Liaison Auror, as long as she wasn't on active missions for the M.A.G.I.C. Her duties as such could involve patrolling locations like Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley; criminal investigations and/or interrogations; or serving a range of warrants to civilians; but for the most part, it involved paperwork. Lots and lots of paperwork to be completed at her desk, just as she was doing now.

Or had been, before pushing away to take a short break. She was bored. A bored Arielle was _never_ a good thing, the other officers of the DMLE had learned that (the whole Ministry had learned), often to their detriment. The last time Arielle had been this fed-up Gawain Robards – Head of the Auror Office – had found himself under attack from a band of Cornish Pixies that had mysteriously appeared in his office. He had raced out of there, screaming like a lunatic, with his robes half torn off – but he'd made the fatal error of not closing the door behind him. It took the on-duty Aurors hours to not only round up and cage the devilish imps, but also to restore the Department back to its original order after the Pixies had whizzed through, leaving their usual trail of destruction in their wake. Another time, Kingsley Shacklebolt – Minister for Magic – had almost had a fit when, upon addressing a meeting of the Department Heads, every 'head' appeared to him to take on the guise of one magical creature after the other. Robards had the face of a Hippogriff; Aurelia Sternes – Chief Witch of the Wizengamot – was a Goblin, and so on. Nothing had ever been proven, but everyone had breathed a big sigh of relief once Ari was back to her regular duties again.

Her contemplation of possible mayhem was interrupted by a brisk tapping on the side of her cubicle as a familiar face popped around the open-ended partition.

"Thomas!"

Dean Thomas, Ari's former year-mate and fellow Gryffindor alumnus, had graduated the Auror Academy two years before Arielle had completed her training for the M.A.G.I.C., and they had worked together quite a few times over the years on a wide range of cases for both departments.

"I hate to ask a question with an obvious answer, but are you currently free right now?" Dean questioned, eyebrows raised as he took in Ari's current position (feet propped on her desk, slouched down in her chair with her hands clasped on her stomach as she stared at him).

"You're still hanging out for that date then, Thomas?"

"Ha, ha," was his dry response to her wit, even as he grinned. "Although, if you're free tonight, I do know this great little Italian restaurant in Soho . . ." trailing off suggestively.

She rolled her eyes, smirking at him. "You do remember the last time you tried to hook up with me, don't you, Dean?" she didn't have to spell it out for him, as Dean's coffee-coloured skin turned a bit sallow at the memory. Fragmented images passed in front of his mind's eye, flashes of a little boy wielding a very sharp sword that he shouldn't have been able to lift, let alone wave around the way that he had.

"Your godson hates me," was all he could croak out past the sudden tightness in his throat.

"Teddy doesn't hate you – _Ginny_ hated you, and she told us all the horror stories about your breakup while Teddy was eavesdropping. It was for the best, y'know," she said consolingly. "If you didn't pass Teddy's muster, it was _never_ going to happen."

Dean shrugged it off, even managing to grin a little bit, as he claimed, "At least he doesn't threaten me with sharp objects whenever I see him these days. As long as I'm not dating any of 'his girls', he seems to tolerate me well enough."

Arielle snorted. "There you go then. Anyway, I'm assuming that you came here for a reason?"

He laughed, telling her that he was due for patrol in Diagon in about 30 minutes – if she was free, she was more than welcome to tag along. She could have kissed him in that moment, so great was her relief. Any excuse to get out of the Ministry and be outside, even patrolling the peaceful streets of the magical shopping district, was welcomed. Snagging her official Enforcer's badge, they grabbed the official red Auror robes on their way out of the Department – nobody actually wore the things inside the Ministry unless they were performing official duties – and headed for the lifts to take them to the main foyer of the Ministry in preparation for Floo-ing to Diagon Alley.

Once arrived at the Leaky Cauldron via the Floo, they dusted themselves off and greeted Hannah Finnegan, the owner and landlady – another year-mate, though sorted into Hufflepuff – married to Seamus, Dean's schoolmate and friend. Quickly, they made their way out back to the courtyard, and from there into Diagon Alley proper. They met up just outside of Ollivander's with the pair of Auror's that they were taking over from, Kendrick and Smythe were more than ready to go. "Haven't had so much as a purse-snatch," Anna Smythe grumbled.

The patrols in the Alley, amongst other noted magical areas in Britain, had been stepped up after an attack on Hogsmeade had taken place a few months before. Happily, for Ari's peace of mind, it hadn't been a weekend for the students at Hogwarts to attend the little Wizarding village, so Teddy had not been at risk. For the most part, only minor damage and injuries had been the result of the assault by several masked and hooded individuals that had Apparated out of there once a squad of Aurors had Portkeyed into the town, in order to back up and defend the townspeople from further harassment.

"Mitchell and Bryant are sweeping Knockturn," was Kendrick's contribution. Bevan Kendrick had graduated from Wielding Sorcery Academy in Wales, one of the smaller magical schools in Britain, in '93 before applying for the Auror's Academy. He had been a notable Auror for over a decade – barring his subversive activities in support of the resistance during Riddle's takeover of the Ministry in '97 – prior to his recruitment to MAGIC in 2005 as an Agent with Arielle's encouragement and sponsorship. He was now the Senior Agent for the British Office of MAGIC, overseeing the other Agents and Enforcers when they were on active duty.

Derek Mitchell and Paige Bryant were the other team of Aurors on patrol within the Alley's environs, who would meet up with them at random times and locations as each pairing swept through the place on alert for any untoward activity in the commercial centre. She had worked with both before, Bryant more than Mitchell, and the two were solid, hardworking officers – not a lot slipped by them.

"How's Warwick coming along with the Hydra-Kin investigation, then?" Arielle questioned Kendrick, referring to their colleague Agent Aaron Warwick, assigned to the squad of Agents investigating the attacks – Hogsmeade was merely the most recent in a string of like crimes throughout several countries, Romania, Bulgaria, the United States, and even Australia had reported assaults on public districts where a high concentration of those country's magical populations tended to reside or frequent. All bore disturbing similarities – several individuals, always heavily veiled in cloaks and masks, would quickly Apparate or ride a Portkey in and start causing mayhem, casting Dark Spells at bystanders and buildings with the clear intent of causing injury and damage to whatever they were aiming at. Once the Aurors arrived in full force, however, they quickly exited the area, leaving the officers with the task of cleaning up their mess, seeing to the wounded and questioning the witnesses.

"Not much, so far," Kendrick replied, sighing heavily. "Just confirming with his other team-mates on their ends more or less as to where the attacks were, when they happened, how many seemed to be involved for each area . . ." he went on to list the various things that made up the – often tedious – work for Officers to wade through in their investigations, as they tried to make sense of the cases they were appointed to. Something tickled in the back of Ari's mind as she listened to Kendrick's recital of the places where the attacks had happened, she was sure that there was something familiar to her in there, something that she'd heard or perhaps read that linked those places together in her mind.

*T*C*o*F*W*

_There was the warehouse district in Tirgoviste, Romania, where many workers in the magical factories had been badly injured – some killed – when they were caught in the blazing buildings, set alight with __Fiendfyre__, Cursed magical fire that was almost impossible to douse once started; __магия алея __or Magic Alley in Sofia, Bulgaria, their equivalent to Britain's Diagon Alley had been hit also, with the offenders appearing at opposite ends to prevent any quick exit by fleeing shoppers, casting Blasting Hexes at store windows and Dark Curses at the frightened people as they tried to escape._

_Mississippi Swings in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, one of the U.S.'s premier magical malls had almost been levelled when five terrorists had struck with simultaneous Gouging Hexes at the support pillars on the ground floor of the 10-storey building. A group of quick-thinking tourists had saved the structure, along with many lives, when they moved to brace the cracking, crumbling columns with various supportive Charms and Transfigured material to help bear the weight. Unfortunately, their heroism had quickly brought them to the hostile attention and fire from the thugs who attacked en masse. Angered by this cowardly harassment upon those who were so courageously trying to save them, the horrified onlookers were swift in exacting their own retribution on the gang. From the advantage of higher ground, they started casting a few nasty Hexes and Charms of their own, forcing the assault group to retreat even before the Aurors had arrived in the aftermath._

_Possibly scared off by the enthusiastic reprisal enacted on them by the enraged civilians in the mall attack, the terrorists' next target was Melbourne, Australia – the industrial area within Dandenong, to be precise – at night-time, when few were around.__ Fiendfyre__ was used once more to burn out several shops and businesses in the region that belonged to members of the Australian magical populace, but it quickly spread to engulf other buildings in the area. While the assailants were gone by the time that law enforcement and fire-fighters arrived to stop the fires from spreading any further, for the first time, they had left a sinister calling-card behind – the ground on one street had been marked with an apparently fire-resistant substance that the Cursed Fire had left mostly intact, whilst scorching everything else around it, revealing a symbol and a message. This would be the first time that anyone in Magical Law Enforcement had heard the term 'Hydra-Kin'._

_A nine-headed black hydra was depicted with four of its heads decapitated, as one of those gruesome wounds seemed to have the beginnings of two new growths emerging from the gore. One clawed foot was set atop a globe beside the fearsome form, a globe of the Earth, as if claiming it – a rather bold declaration for a group that, up until now, had released no statements, had offered no clue as to their ultimate agenda. Beneath the image were the words:_

_**As Hydra-Kin We Arise From Death**_

_**As Hydra-Kin We Are Legion**_

_ Hogsmeade had the same insignia left behind after that attack as well, emblazoned on the outside wall of The Three Broomsticks. Rosmerta had all but thrown a tantrum right there on the street, screaming invectives at the Aurors who were trying to calm her down and gesturing wildly at the offending image on the brick exterior of her pub. Like so many others who'd survived the Second Rebellion, she'd been left to watch on with horror at the crimes perpetrated by the Death Eaters as they'd terrorised innocents with a will and a passion, leaving destruction and chaos in their wake – and, in many cases, their own symbol of terror and pain: the notorious Dark Mark shot into the sky to blot out the stars with its sinister green glow, the Skull-and-Snake of Voldemort. Rosmerta had no intention of playing host to that kind of fear and violence ever again, and having a mark like that left on her pub was simply not to be borne. She swore up and down the street that she would _blast down the whole bloody wall if she had to_, in order to be rid of it._

*T*C*o*F*W*

"Potter?"

Brought back by Kendrick's brusque tones, she shook herself mentally before quirking her brow to him. Heeding her subtle signal, he excused them from Smythe and Thomas who, judging from the flirtatious air around them both, barely took any notice as Arielle and Bevan stepped to the side for privacy.

"What is it, Potter?" Bevan asked once he'd set up a Ward for privacy. Arielle set up a few of her own before replying.

"For some reason, those places, the locations are setting off bells _somewhere_ in my memory – I can't quite grasp it, though," she said, sighing in frustration as she rubbed her brow with her index finger. "Let me think on it for a bit, do some nosing about, I'll see if I can't work out why it's niggling at me," she offered in response to his narrow-eyed interest at her words. He nodded contemplatively, still eyeing her closely.

"You do that, Potter. You do just that, and you let me know straight off if you work it out," he ordered briskly. She nodded to her superior. "Who knows? You might just have the information we need to track these bastards down, the break we've been looking for all along."

"I'll do my best, sir." She scratched her nose idly, pondering. "It wasn't 'til you laid it out for me like that, all the locations in order, that I started to get a tingle about it. I _know_ I've seen or heard something that connects all these dots, I'm just trying to put it together in my head as to _where_, y'know, what context," she struggled a bit to vocalise her thoughts, to point out for him her line of self-query. He just nodded again.

"Don't panic on it overly, Potter. Stressing on it don't help us any. Just puzzle on it when you get the chance – but for now . . ." trailing off as he took down the Secrecy Spells around them, as they looked to where Smythe and Thomas were waiting patiently, ". . . I think you have a patrol to be getting on with," he finished, tilting his head to indicate for her to go to Dean and get going.

She smiled courteously, inclining her head politely. "Sir."

Taking polite farewells of each other, they set off on their respective ways, Smythe and Kendrick reporting back to headquarters, Dean and Arielle headed out to walk the streets and alleyways, watchful and wary. Partners on patrol tended to separate to cover ground more efficiently, but always remained within eyesight of each other in order to be able to watch the other's back in case of trouble.

A few hours into their shift, and all was quiet. They'd crossed paths a couple of times with Bryant and Mitchell, updating each other on what was going on – absolutely nothing. Ari was standing just outside Florean Fortescue's Ice-cream Parlour, smirking a little as she eyed Dean Thomas's conspicuously turned back as he stood over by the Magical Menagerie, staring longingly up the street to WWW, the twin's shop at the end of the Alley. He was clearly still pouting about her keeping him from 'patrolling' up that way almost exclusively the whole time. Boys, she snorted mentally, always wanting to play with the shiny new toys. Speaking of, she'd nearly had to drag him out of Quality Quidditch Supplies by his ear when he'd spied the newest Broom Sweeper's outfit released by Nimbus. Thomas was rather keen on the sport – a combination of broom-racing and an obstacle course, flying against other riders as you navigated the course.

Drawn from her thoughts by a sudden series of loud cracks, her head snapped swiftly to the area just in front of Gringott's front steps, where the sounds seemed to originate from. People did not Apparate into Diagon Alley, it was considered rude. With so many people walking through most of the day, and with so many shops tightly packed together with some of their goods displayed out the front, the likelihood of managing to Apparition into the area and possibly end up stumbling into someone or something was quite high. Most tended to Apparate discreetly into one of the alleyways off Charing Cross Road before heading into the Leaky Cauldron or, if they had a working Floo, simply Floo-ed directly to the pub.

Upon seeing the band of cloaked individuals clustered in front of the white-marbled building, she came fully alert. Her eyes went past them momentarily to meet Thomas' suddenly grim gaze – he'd seen them, too. He inclined his head to her, before twisting away to race into Gambol and Japes – the store had a Floo that he could use to contact the Ministry. Ducking around the wall separating Florean's from Pyramids, a store promoting its wares as 'genuine Egyptian artefacts and marvels', she pressed her wand to the left side of her robe over her heart, where her MAGIC Enforcer's badge was – the charms on it could send a variety of signals to fellow Aurors and Officers when needed. She tapped the badge with her wand once to signal any badges in close proximity to her current location – Thomas, Bryant and Mitchell were within range, while Dean already knew what was going on, she was letting the others know that they had a problem and they had to move to her location . . . now. Her badge _ting_-ed softly – once from Mitchell, then once more from Bryant, an acknowledgement – they were on their way.

She narrowed her eyes as she spotted movement inside Gambol's – Dean unobtrusively slipped through the door, a grim look in his eyes as he scanned down the street, finding her as she crouched at the wall. He shook his head – the Floo wasn't working, she realised in dismay. They each could have used their badges to alert the DMLE to the situation in the Alley, but the charms capabilities were limited in the information that could be transmitted. It would have been so much easier to make a Floo-call and be able to speak directly to a fellow Auror. Her badge _ting_-ed again softly – Thomas. She looked to him, he was sidling around the wall towards Gringott's to get in behind the group, who were going unnoticed for the moment by the milling crowd of shoppers around them, they seemed to be formulating a plan of attack – looking around furtively, 'looking for something – or someone?' she wondered to herself. Thomas signalled through his badge again – three taps: short, long, and then short again – NO CONTACT. Exhaling in a sudden rush, she closed her eyes in comprehension – they were on their own. It wasn't just the Floo – their ability to communicate long-range with Aurors in the MLE offices had been compromised as well . . . and _that_ could not be a coincidence. Once Thomas had tried and failed to connect with the Floo, he had tried his badge – and had gotten no response.

More out of hope than any real expectations of success, she gave it a go herself (maybe Thomas's badge had malfunctioned), it was unlikely seeing as he could still communicate with her and the others in the Alley, but it was worth a shot.

Nothing. Swiftly, she called up her Patronus, wincing at the bright light the form threw off – she did not want to be seen by the hooded crew just yet – she whispered her message to it before sending it off to the Ministry and the DMLE. She tapped her badge thrice, all short – MESSAGE. Waiting a beat, she tapped five times in rapid succession to signal that it would take some time for a response – after the war, with the vast success reported by the resistance on the effectiveness of using Patronuses for communication, every DMLE around the world had ensured that all of their officers could perform the charm – no exceptions permitted. If you couldn't produce an effective _corporeal_ Patronus, you couldn't serve as an active member of law enforcement – your assignments were based on clerical and administrative duties, permanently.

Her head turned towards Knockturn as she watched a Disillusioned Mitchell slip into the shadows on the far corner, staying low as he watched the clustered group closely. He would be assessing them now, every bit as much as Thomas and Arielle had before – roughly twenty or more individuals, covered up by their cloaks in such a way that you couldn't even tell if they were male or female, let alone what they looked like. Not a good sign.

He didn't look to find her or Thomas – he didn't need to. Their badges told them exactly where the others were, another safety measure established from the Blood War. Bryant, Disillusioned as well, slipped around the corner nearest Ari discreetly, making her way down towards her position. They had their play now – Thomas and Arielle had been separated in position by the bands' Apparition point at Gringott's, so Mitchell would back him up – and Bryant and Arielle would team up. "Alright there, Potter?" Bryant's cockney twang came softly as she placed herself in position in front of Pyramids' doors, set in a slight alcove where Bryant could shed her Disillusionment and watch their targets without giving herself away. It wasn't the cloaks that made them so suspicious, this was Wizarding London, after all – cloaks and robes were the norm rather than the exception. The cloaked figures all had their hoods drawn up over their heads to cover their faces and as much as you might try, you couldn't make out any of their features other than the gleam of their eyes – a very, _very _good sign of a first-rate Masking Glamour being applied to the hoods.

This whole process – from the suspects Apparating into the alley more or less right in front of Thomas and Arielle, to all four officers being in communication with each other about their options, right before they had positioned themselves for an effective takedown – had taken mere minutes. They were ready to go – it was perfect . . . too perfect. Even as they were preparing to move out there, and make their presence known as official law enforcement to the menacing bunch, the people around them were starting to take notice, finally. One woman suddenly screamed, pointing her finger toward them. "It's THEM! I saw them, at Hogsmeade! They're the ones who burnt down my sister's house!"

"Shit." Ari's heartfelt expletive gusted out as she exhaled in resignation – there went the opportunity to do this discreetly with the minimum of fanfare. But then, given her suspicions on just who they were looking at, she figured the odds had been pretty slim on that scenario anyway. Tapping her badge twice sharply – GO – she nodded to Bryant, and they stepped out together even as some in the crowd began to shrink back in fear and alarm.

One of the Masked members stepped forward, raising their wand threateningly, even as Thomas's voice, magnified by a Sonorus boomed out from behind one of the marble columns fronting Gringott's entrance. "HALT! BRITISH AURORS AND ENFORCEMENT! LAY DOWN YOUR WANDS AND IDENTIFY YOURSELVES IMMEDIATELY!"

And all hell broke loose – everyone amongst the group had their wands out, casting all manner of Spells in every direction, a great many were concentrated on where they'd heard Thomas's voice behind the pillar. It was a spectacularly bad move, as the towering column cracked under the sheer volume of Spells impacting upon it – the splintered marble fell down towards the street – taking part of the overhanging roof with it, right on top of the hostile force. Most managed to scramble out of the way – some didn't. _CRASH!_

Arielle winced in vague empathy – not the nicest way to go, really – before shutting off her emotions and focussing on the task ahead of her. They had to keep these bastards contained as much as possible, if it was the same faction as before, if it _was _Hydra-Kin, then they had already demonstrated their willingness to cause harm and even kill others in their lust for destruction.

*T*C*o*F*W*

She looked around her in vague disbelief – had it really only been five minutes since the fight started? The sheer chaos around her was incredible – while most of the civilians had been able to take refuge in various stores throughout the alley, safely under the highest-security Wards the shops had to prevent theft and damage, others had not been so fortunate. Some lay limply in the rubble littering the street while others cowered behind any cover they could find, spot-fires still sputtering away in random places – remnants of stray Blasting Curses hitting explosive elements or chemicals, and Flame Curses fired at people and buildings in the Hydras' rampage. Arielle was currently pinned down at the corner of Knockturn Alley, trading rapid Spell-fire with a wily trio of the faction – they knew their stuff, she admitted to herself grudgingly – one Shielded, another was on active defence against any Spells Ari cast that could potentially break through the Shield, while the last was casting offensively for the group. Speaking of . . . Ari ducked rapidly as an assortment of Conjured daggers buried themselves into the wall above her head. Thinking quickly, she Shielded herself with her right wand, as she gestured with the one in her left hand. A Conjuration for a Conjuration, she thought, smirking coldly. Never, _never_ go up against a Potter with the idea of using Transfiguration as your key to victory – her father's side of the family had a_ looonnng_ history of specialising in that particular branch of magic. She whipped her wand back over her shoulder, pointing directly towards her opponents, unflinching as several rather violent Hexes impacted against her Shield. It trembled, but held firm.

Their eyes widened a bit as they watched in disbelief – apparently at least one of those Curses was designed to shatter Shield Charms – before they suddenly wailed in terror with one voice . . . the daggers they had wielded had now been turned back at them, as _shuriken_. Spinning through the air at high velocity, they were all but invisible, and almost impossible to stop or avoid. The defender quickly hurled a vortex of air, hoping to catch the lethal stars in the tornado, as the attacker desperately began firing a heavy barrage of Curses and Hexes at Ari's shield, trying to blast through with pure force. Ari smiled; a cold, vicious curl of her lips that had absolutely nothing to do with humour – she had them now. Their panicked attempts at saving themselves had given her all the ammunition she needed. Letting the Spells splash harmlessly against her Shield, she focussed her will and her magic on that vortex, ripping it from the magical control of the caster – it was HERS now. She Conjured a second wave of _shuriken_, Banishing them into the expanding spiral, then a third wave that she held in reserve behind her as she _pushed_ with her magic. Any stray _shuriken_ that hadn't been pulled into the twister had mostly gone on to impact the trio's Shield, slicing into the barrier, but not quite breaking through. Perfect.

The twister smashed against the Conjured barrier, whirring and writhing against the resistance to its directed path. The air alone, no matter how wild, might have had little effect on the buffering magic . . . except that not only had the buried stars set up cracks and faults within the Shield that the intense winds were working their way through – and widening with every passing moment – but the _shuriken_ spiralling inside the twister were slashing into the barrier as well, shredding it even further.

Seeing their protection compromised, and their Darkest Curses rendered ineffective against Ari's impressive Shielding, the trio turned to flee . . . too late. The Shield broke and the stars flew with deadly precision. Seeing them there, effectively dead or dying, Ari took the opportunity to glance around, taking in the scene. Dean Thomas held position on the far side of Gringott's, facing off with a trio of his own – this was new, Ari realised suddenly, as her eyes swivelled to the other side of Gringott's where Derek Mitchell was holding Thomas's previous location behind a pillar. The assailants were working in threes just like those that Ari had just faced and defeated – one to Shield, one to defend, and another attacking.

The terrorists had never worked together like this before . . . was it because they were facing Aurors? Ari wondered. Attacking terrified civilians who were mostly attempting to flee for their lives didn't tend to require such teamwork, and previous to this encounter, the Hydras had always chosen flight over fighting with armed and trained law enforcement – what had changed?

She filed that away as a matter for later consideration, all of her surmising had only lasted a few seconds – right now, there was a Battle Royale going on out there, with two fellow officers under fire, and another downed. Ari looked at the ground behind her, at the crumpled, seemingly lifeless form sprawled on it – Paige Bryant. She was alive – barely – and the one reason why Ari had been pinned down against the wall, she was frantically trying to keep Bryant from being hit again by hostile fire. Ari had always been more effective as a fighter by being _in motion at all times_. She was fast and unpredictable with her movements, leaving her opponents guessing as to where she would be next, casting with flawless precision as she went, almost literally running circles around any foes.

*T*C*o*F*W*

_She hadn't seen the Curse that hit Bryant, had only whirled around at hearing the choked, pained gasp behind her to see her ally falling, slumping to the ground with blood pouring from her eyes, and nose. When Ari ran to her, checking her over rapidly, she noted the blood that pooled in her ears as well – upon shedding Bryant's robes and lifting her shirt, she saw the tell-tale bruising on her torso – a Concussion Hex, one with enough power to cause severe internal bleeding, was Ari's diagnosis. She placed Bryant under a __Stasis__ Charm, hoping that their backup would arrive in time to get her the proper medical care she needed. To help that aim along, she fired off two more Messenger Patronuses quickly, one to the, hopefully, soon-to-arrive Auror squad to inform them that an officer was down, and one to St. Mungo's to inform them of a wounded Auror, and the likely injuries that they would be presented with on said Auror's arrival at the hospital, _soon_._

_She turned back to the battle reluctantly, knowing that there was no choice – Thomas and Mitchell couldn't get to them to provide cover, and evacuating Bryant to St. Mungo's, leaving them behind, just wasn't a viable option. They had to fight it out, trusting in their colleagues to get there to support them in time._

*T*C*o*F*W*

Running a swift tally in her head – four killed by the falling pillar at the start, another four during the course of the battle, by her count, it had been one for all of them, Ari noted – plus the three she had just overwhelmed accounted for eleven out of the hostile force. There were now four trios concentrating their efforts on Mitchell and Thomas alternately – apparently, they trusted in their fifth cohort to take down the lone Officer stranded on the other side of the Alley without a partner – their mistake, Ari grinned mirthlessly. Looking around, she rather thought that if there were any stray members of the Hydras on their own that she hadn't accounted for, they were certainly well hidden and keeping their heads down. She stepped out from her dark corner, still well-placed to defend Bryant's prone form physically if need be, the final cluster of _shuriken_ still hovering behind her head. Ready to be launched at her command.

One member of the trio on the far left must have caught her movement at the edge of his vision, as he spun around to stare at her. He looked from her to the group lying lifeless and bloody on the ground, with silver blades protruding from their bodies in a menacing display of this Officer's martial prowess. Staring at her once more, his gaze sharpened – _Potter!_ Nobody had gotten a clear look at her before this; she had remained in the shadows, and the fighting was too intense. All their focus had been on attacking any who got in the way, and defending themselves from the fierce onslaught by the Aurors that were trying to protect the civilians left stranded in the open.

"It's Potter!" his voice rang out, echoing in the street. "Potter, you fools! Get her, kill the bitch!" so saying, he and his group plus one other turned and opened fire on her almost simultaneously, leaving the other two gangs to match up against Thomas and Mitchell, to keep them under pressure and unable to go to Arielle's aid. Her eyes narrowed – was she just a target of opportunity, then? A way to big-note themselves by taking on and killing the Girl-Who-Lived, or had she been marked for some reason? Were they here because they had been tipped off that she was patrolling the area? Why?

For now, at least, the answers didn't matter – she was too busy trying to survive. Three opponents working as a single unit were one thing – double that number, coming at her from opposite angles – that was a whole other game. Ari liked games.

Holding out her hand, palm up, she Conjured a ball of flame above it – small at first, then quickly growing – as her right hand gestured to pull up another Shield. Under the pressure of such a barrage of Spells cast against it repeatedly, she knew it wouldn't hold for long . . . it didn't have to. She made a gesture with her left hand, flicking her palm upwards as if tossing something in the air, and the ball of flame indeed rose – into the centre of the massed _shuriken_ that now began to spin in place, steadily picking up speed, until they looked like little silver discs of flame themselves, dancing in mid-air. Suddenly, they _were_ aflame, the fireball shooting out tongues of gold-and-crimson heat to ignite the whirling stars. She launched the fiery blades, aimed at the space _between_ the two groups facing her, watching as they all turned to stare warily at the burning stars that suddenly _changed course_. Some peeled off toward the group on the left, moving in graceful, deadly arcs, almost faster than the eye could follow. The other half mirrored them on the right, closing in on that trio with purely lethal intent.

Arielle never got a chance to see the results of her surprise ambush as a voice to her right, in the shadows of the opposite corner of Knockturn, called her name. "Arielle?" She spun, right wand at the ready with a Curse on the tip of her tongue as her left arm extended outward from her side, reinforcing her Shield. She stared, almost dropping her wand in astonishment. Almost.

He looked at her with a slight quirk to his mouth, as if he wanted to grin at her bewilderment, but wasn't prepared to provoke her ire after seeing her react so swiftly. She shook her head, _hard_. "It's not possible," she stared in utter incredulity. "You're not real. I dreamed you . . . I made you up in my mind . . ." she was almost stuttering now in her shock, trying to make sense of what she saw. "_Finn_?" His pale green eyes, gleaming so brightly even in the dim gloom of the alley, glittered in amusement. He pushed himself off the wall he'd been slouched against casually, slowly prowling towards her. On seeing her eyes narrow at him warningly, he lifted his hands in appeasement, showing that he was unarmed. For someone like him – an Original Vampire – that didn't really mean much. His eyes were still laughing, though.

"Of course it is me. Finally, I am called to you once more – after all this time – and you do not even believe me to be anything more than idle fantasy?" he put a hand to his heart in feigned sorrow, grinning fully by now. Arielle realised that she could still see his shirt through his hand – in fact, she could see the wall of the Alley through his body – his whole form was translucent.

A sudden, almost explosive hit on her Shield snapped her attention back to the fight – she saw that of the left-side trio, two members were down with the one furthest away from the wheeling stars apparently managing to either duck, or Shield himself in some way, in time to escape fatal injuries. There were two survivors from the right, that hadn't come through entirely unscathed, she observed in satisfaction – one was going to lose his eye, if she wasn't mistaken, the exposed prongs of the star embedded in his left orb winked gruesomely in the dying light of the evening, while the other had slashes across his torso all the way from nipple to upper thigh. . . that might have nicked the artery, she mused inwardly, eyeing the streaming blood . . . or at least a larger vein, was her conclusion. It was he who had flung the Curse that had nearly shattered her Shield.

She focussed on him – this was the weak link, she determined ruthlessly. Make him dance around to avoid her volley of Hexes and Curses, and that injury would take him out. If he didn't actually die from massive blood-loss and shock, he would at least pass out, she thought to herself, thus preventing these three from forming another trio to wear her down. Mind set, her left hand continued to pour power into her Shield, mending any cracks, and strengthening it for the assault to come. _She moved._

Jumping atop the 4-foot-tall post that marked the entry to Knockturn Alley, she took the higher ground, waving her right wand at a certain patch of the ground beyond her attackers. The duo turned, as the opponent to her left continued to fire at her, advancing slowly while trying to break the Shield that all but sizzled with power every time it was struck, holding steady. The other two recoiled at the sight of the stars laying on the ground around the slashed bodies of the first gang that Ari had taken out – she had long since allowed the twister to peter out, and the _shuriken_ that were not embedded in their corpses were simply scattered around and on them, apparently harmless. But it wasn't the _shuriken_ she was after right now – pausing in her casting to rapidly shift her attention to the steadily advancing menace on her left, she forced him back with an _Expulso_ fired at his feet . . . his Shield protected him from impact but she had anticipated that, aiming at the ground in front of him flung up dust, dirt and shards of rock and stone into his body and face, making him recoil as the dust flew right through his Shield, getting in his eyes and mouth and nose. The small, sharp splinters of shattered rock pierced his Shield, cutting him in several places, albeit shallowly, but it was enough to have him retreat a little, cursing furiously at the sudden pain and discomfort.

She went back to casting at the bodies on the ground, even as_ he_ moved up beside her, watching on in fascination. "Bit nasty, all of this," was his laconic opening, as he was clearly angling to engage her in conversation once more. Ari ground her teeth silently. What a fine time for her to be having a full-blown, daytime hallucination of someone straight out of her nightmares – in the midst of a full-fledged mêlée in Diagon Alley! – and she couldn't resist the temptation to remark as much to her imaginary companion, who simply flung his dark head back and laughed heartily, his shoulders shaking in his hilarity. "I am _not_ 'the wild hallucination of a fevered brain' as you so kindly put it, Arielle. I am as real as any of these . . ." gesturing expressively at the attackers before her, ". . . bumbling buffoons here."

"If you were real, they would see you and attack you just for standing next to me," was Ari's wily retort. Real! She could see _through_ him just like any other ghost in her world, except that he was not silver-and-grey, _and no-one else could see him._ He just laughed again, shaking his head at her in mocking reproof. She ignored him, because now – finally – her Spell-crafting had taken effect on the three chosen targets. The bodies rose from the ground, transformed and alive again, in a manner of speaking. Three fearsome animals – a lion, black-maned and tawny-eyed; a miniature Horntail, approximately a quarter of the average size . . . she wasn't keen on the idea of expending the energy required to create a full-sized replica, thank you very much . . . and a beautiful, glowing-white Salamander, she had used some of the still-flaming stars to spark the life into her Transfiguration from the human body, which explained the size of the fiery beast – at least six-feet long.

"Of course they cannot see me, Arielle." The figment of her imagination chose this moment to pipe up again. She rolled her eyes – honestly, what did a witch have to do to get some peace and quiet, so that she could finish putting down a bunch of murderous fiends? She jumped down from her perch suddenly as her attacker finally smartened up enough to stop wasting his time attempting to destroy her Shield Charm – still going strong – and just cast directly at the column she was standing on, blasting it to bits. "Because I am not here for them, I am here for _you_," he continued on, blithely ignoring her obvious attempts to ignore him as she willed her Transfigured creatures into action, turning them loose on the remainder of the Hydras – Dean and Derek had acquitted themselves well, she saw – only two remained out of the original force of six that had been concentrating their efforts on the duo to keep them from sneaking around to support Ari. She turned her attention to the rubble left from the post she had used to view everything from a higher level – she Transfigured it into a solid wall that she placed around Paige, to afford her some protection against any stray Spells or shrapnel being flung around.

"Oh really? _You_ are here for _me_? Well, that's very romantic, Finn-" she was cut off by a sudden outcry from Dean. Looking out from the alley, she saw that Derek was down, apparently taken out by rubble Banished at him at high velocity, judging from the rather colourful welts and bruising she could see on his head, and the assortment of stones surrounding his prone body. Another scream from her right signalled the success of her Lion, as he snarled triumphantly, chewing his downed victim's arm to splinters before going for the throat.

She pursed her lips, a little put off by the gory sight, before shrugging it off. Even as she continued casting Hexes and Curses towards her opponents in the street, a part of her attention was reserved for the vision standing beside her, arms crossed over his chest as he glared at her. "-But I don't think it would work very well, what with you being invisible to everyone else and, well . . ." thrusting her arm out to the side and _through_ his chest in demonstration of her point, ". . . We can't exactly _embrace the moment_, so to speak," continuing on with her previous statement as if she'd never paused in the first place.

It was his turn to roll his eyes now, as she grinned snarkily – if she couldn't banish her hallucination by sheer force of will, maybe she could annoy him away with a combination of indulgent disdain and pointed digs . . . her special, patented blend for scaring away the unwanted males in her life. Finn however, was obviously made of sterner stuff. "Forget it Witchling, I am not going anywhere. So, tell me all about these 'dreams' of yours. Anything interesting?"

"And . . . what would you consider 'interesting'?"

"Clearly, you recognise me. So I must feature in them – alongside my family – I presume?" he cocked a dark brow at her in enquiry. She concentrated on returning fire on both sides of the alley, not bothering to answer. He grinned thinly, his eyes narrowing on her as he all but purred, "And I do believe that you have had these 'dreams' for quite a while, with me and my family – and yourself, of course, as you once were – and then . . ." he trailed off, those wolfish eyes intent on her profile, marked by a sudden pallor now. He pulled his upper lip back from his teeth in a triumphant smile, almost a snarl, as she flicked a sideways glance to him, her bright green eyes focussing on his slightly extended canines – too long to be merely human, too sharp for comfort.

"Your 'dream' changed." A flat statement, no room left in the words or his tone for denial or rebuttal. She looked back desperately to the street in front of her, trying to focus on the scene before her, to block him out – she _couldn't_ deal with this right now! She _never_ wanted to have to deal with this, it was too much, she was Arielle Potter, Enforcer, not some ancient witch who'd known vampires straight out of the legends – _before_ they were legendary, mind you.

She turned her head in frantic relief as she heard the tell-tale _cracks_ of Apparition behind her, further down Knockturn Alley, as her badge jangled almost musically with the proximity beacon telling her that it was the Auror squad – finally – arriving to back them up. She called them up to her, shouting out the status report – two officers down, two standing with four . . . no, three suspects now, her Horntail had set one aflame before being blasted to bits – they were in need of a Medi-Mage and Auror support, _now_. Once she turned her attention back into Diagon, she found that the three remaining thugs had heard the Aurors arriving as well – they were desperate now.

She could see their eyes, blown wide enough that she could view the whites clearly around the iris – out of a band of more than twenty, they were the last three, the others were dead or as good as – and they could hear the Aurors pounding up Knockturn towards them, fresh to the fight and ready to take them down. Finn stepped in front of her suddenly, blocking her view as she frowned up at him in confusion. He swivelled his head, surveying the chaos around him, before he looked back down at her smiling, albeit sadly. "You are very good at what you do, Arielle – exceptional, in fact – I am so, _so_ sorry," he murmured, his eyes holding hers with a strange intensity, as if he were steeling himself to something.

"Sorry for what?" she tried to laugh it off, not quite succeeding. But what could he do, after all? He was either a ghost or an extremely vivid hallucination; he couldn't affect the living in any case. He looked at her.

"You have had the dream now, over and over. You know it, and so do I. You are denying the truth to everybody, especially yourself, when you refuse to accept who you truly are . . . my hand has been forced," he stared into her eyes with an almost pleading expression. "I did not want this for you, I never wanted for you to have to suffer like this, but I do not have a choice any longer."

"I'm not suffering, Finn." She peered up at him, trying to understand what was going on – perhaps this whole day had been one continuously long nightmare, it certainly felt eerie enough to her – the fine hairs on her arm and the back of her neck were pulling upright, standing erect as her inner alarm bells really started jangling now. What was this?

He closed his eyes in apparent frustration, shaking his head before opening them once more to stare down into her upturned face, his own expression closed off, resolved. His pale eyes were flinty, hardened as he seemed to look into her very soul. "You will."

Suddenly, she heard shouting in the street as the thugs finally cracked completely under the pressure. "We're dead meat!" one screamed hysterically. "They'll kill us for this."

"Not if we finish it," another bellowed, his voice cracking halfway through the menacing words. "GET HER!" her eyes widened in apprehension; she had not forgotten her earlier suspicions concerning her presence in Diagon Alley being at least one highly motivating factor in the Hydra-Kin's attack on the area _today_. If she stared hard enough through Finn's vaguely transparent form, she could make out the three raising their wands in her direction. She went to extend her wand in turn to create a Shield, but her arm was caught . . . _by Finn's ghostly hand._ Her breath gushed out of her at the eerie sensation – it wasn't like being gripped by flesh-and-blood, nor was it the feeling of being doused in icy water that coming into contact with a magical ghost had on her – it felt almost like static electricity rolling over her skin, prickly and warm.

She went to tug her arm free, and couldn't. He held onto her in a strangely tender, yet unbreakable, grip of his hand around her delicate wrist as she stared up at him, bewildered and silent. It was as if time had slowed around them – she could hear the Aurors coming up behind her, shouting warnings that seemed distorted and far-away. She could see the terrorists beyond Finn, still moving their wands into firing position as if in slow-motion, but she viewed them as though she was dreaming, a fine haze over her vision making them appear vague and out-of-focus – the only reality was her and Finn, his long hair falling over his eyes as they gazed at each other, his hand holding her to the Earth as her mind spiralled in confusion. His hawkish gaze softened slightly as he shifted his grip, both hands coming up to hold her shoulders as he repeated, "You will. The dream has altered – it changed last night. I know not what you saw in your visions, but what I do know, Arielle, is that it is time."

"Time?" she whispered fretfully, wordlessly pleading for understanding, her plea going unanswered as his grip on her shoulders suddenly tightened, almost to the point of pain. She squirmed a little in silent protest.

He nodded. "Yes. It is time. Forgive me, Arielle." She wondered if she was imagining the sudden glossy sheen in his eyes, as though he wished to cry – as he held her tightly and then released her, flinging her to the side . . . and time sped up once again.

She drew in her breath to scream in shock as she fell, twisting her body in a futile attempt to save herself. To her horror, she saw the wands of the trio following her tumbling form, the tips glowing with violent intent from the Curses they were prepared to cast at her. DID cast at her, she watched the light of their Spells erupt and rocket towards her, she could do nothing to avoid them. Too late, she heard the bellows from her fellow officers as they spat out Hexes to defend her, to try and halt their attack on her. The strikes on her body didn't hurt, she thought, as she was hurled up and back into Knockturn from the sheer force of the impacts. Straight back into the path of several of the Spells cast by the Aurors – she felt the blows as she tumbled through the air with no more control than a rag doll, the small of her back, two on her right hip, her legs and arms hit in several places, before one struck the back of her head and she saw only the darkness.

**A/N: So, some definitions for the curious below**

Vingt-et-un (French): literal twenty-one. Referring to the card game 21, also known as Blackjack.

Shuriken (Japanese): literal sword in the hand. Throwing stars, ninja stars.


	6. Chapter 5: Memories And Maladies

**Disclaimer:**** See first chapter**

**Author's Note: Had to cut this one in half again - I'm killing myself with all these monster chapters - I have to restrain myself ;) but at least I have the chapter ready to go now. So, everyone, please enjoy and let me know what you think.**

**Warning? Pretty standard for most of my story so far - a little bit of cursing here and there, character death (non-explicit).**

Chapter 5: Memories and Maladies

_. . . She was up high in the trees, holding onto the twins tightly, waiting for Eirikr and Ione to send them away: she could feel them, all the large, strong males with the woman – the Witch – and her Darkness, and she shuddered in disquiet . . . why wouldn't they just leave? Hearing them converse in the strange, harsh tongue that was spoken here, that she'd been struggling to learn from Ione, she listened intently to try to make sense of it – why had they come, what did they want from her family? The witch was speaking now, her tones smooth and soft, attempting to placate and persuade as the older man amongst them seemed to bark out a rough command . . . _him_ she did not like. She could all but See it in him – the coldness, the presumption – who was he to demand anything of anyone? She and hers had done no harm, had caused no trouble. Then she heard Eirikr call to her gently in their native tongue, saying that it was all right, that they were safe. She snorted, it was easy for him to be calm, a man did not have to fear other men the way that women had to be wary, guarded. She replied in the negative, calling out to him that he should make them go, she didn't want them here . . ._

_. . . Stumbling through the woods, she almost tripped and fell over the protruding roots of the great trees around her, but she steadied herself and continued to half-run, half-stagger back to her cabin, to her refuge. What was she running away from? The haze in her mind made it so hard to think clearly, to remember, but she could nearly taste the danger in the air – something was very wrong. She almost turned back, she knew something horrible was going to happen back there, a terrible evil was lurking in the night – but someone had told her to run . . . who? Why? It was there, in the depths of her memory, she could almost see the face, hear the voice – someone she trusted with few reservations. A woman, such fear in her tone, a slurring in the words – the wine! They had shared a goblet together for the blessing: _something was placed in the cup_. Forcing her rubbery legs to move faster, she could all but hear them behind her now – she didn't know why she was pursued – and she wasn't waiting for them to find her in order to enquire as to their intentions, she fled into the night . . ._

_. . . They were coming into the small clearing now where she was waiting in front of the cabin, the girls running to her, their frantic, high-pitched voices babbling at her, talking over each other in a desperate jumble of words that she couldn't really make out, but she understood enough to look to their companion in disbelief – the Witch-Hunters? Here? He looked back at her, his light green eyes appeared almost yellow in the muted light filtering through the thick trees. He was pale, his face set bleakly as he stared first at the frightened girls, then back at her with his eyes softening slightly. She was suddenly terrified at that look – why? Why such compassion, what was so wrong that his usual stoicism had all but deserted him today, and why was he escorting the twins through the woods? Where were . . . her skin tightened and prickled suddenly, as chilled as if a shadow had just passed over the sun – she looked over the tops of the tall trees, back to the north, to the village – she could see a column of thick, mottled grey rising into the sky steadily. Smoke! Her voice was steady and quiet as she spoke to the twins, soothing them, ordering them tenderly to go inside and wait for her. She watched them enter, closing the door behind themselves, before turning to see that he had approached a little closer, but not too close, as if unsure of his reception. The tears prickled at her eyes, but she fought them back fiercely – SHE WOULD NOT WEEP – not in front of him. Not if it was true, not if everything she suddenly suspected was true. If he was here, how had he known? There was more here, his eyes said everything that he could never speak out loud, and the wind whispered of betrayal . . ._

_. . . The full moon rode high in the darkened heavens, revealed through gaps in the shrouding treetops as she ran, desperately trying to reach them in time. Her heart told her it was futile – she refused to accept it. _Why_ was she given all this power if she couldn't even use it to save the ones she loved? What was the point? And now, on this night, the werewolves howled and men huddled in caves as tragedy loomed once more.  
><em>She had awoken suddenly, her heart pounding as she tried to figure out why her stomach was churning, her skin so clammy with cold sweat. She had Listened to the night . . . seeking with her Magic, what was it? Then her mind's eye had opened, and she Saw them, high in the branches of the ancient cypress, clinging on for dear life. What circled the tree beneath them, waiting, had her leaping out of bed and hastily throwing on a pair of breeches before she raced out of the cottage, running as fast as she could, even as her soul ached – she was too far away, there wasn't enough time.  
><em>Suddenly, she stopped in her tracks as if she'd hit a wall, listening in dawning horror as a triumphant howl arose into the air. More joined in, declaring the terrible truth she was frantically trying to deny to herself, even as her heart broke and the grief tore through her. No, NO! Hands over her mouth as she tried to contain the terrible wails of sorrow; she stood there like a frozen statue, mourning in silence. She could feel the burning in her chest, a steady hum of hatred and rage as she listened to the wolves calling their victory – their kill – into the darkness . . . enough! Her head went back, exposing the tender, vulnerable line of her throat as she sucked in air through her nose, expanding her lungs to their utmost – she opened her mouth and ROARED . . .<em>

_. . . Kneeling in front of Finn, she held out her hand silently. He just looked at it for a moment, before stealing a glance over her head at his parents – still restrained and silenced – his throat working a little with his uncertainty. He turned his eyes back to her, before sighing heavily and holding his hand out to hers. She smiled gently in approval, her eyes reassuring him. She took the knife, slicing her thumb first, then his, pressing the wounded digits together as she chanted softly. Finishing, she rose up on her knees to press her mouth to his forehead tenderly. One down, four to go – and judging by the expression on at least two of the others, this might have been the easiest one of the lot – she rolled her eyes internally – why did she put herself through this frustration? As much as she loved them all dearly, she had certainly never blinded herself to reality – as individuals, these siblings were a _pain in her bum_, en masse – she shuddered a little, they drove her CRAZY . . ._

_. . . They rode through the wilderness, as she looked back over her shoulder for any signs of pursuit. Nothing . . . yet. She glanced off to her right, hearing the soft, airy _whoosh_ as Elie matched their pace through the trees. Her horse shied slightly beneath her, uneasy with the presence it could sense running alongside – a predator without equal, swift and deadly. Pulling gently, but firmly, on the halter, she clucked to the mare softly, soothing her – they couldn't stop now, or falter, they wouldn't be far behind. She turned back to face forward, seeing the girl on the sturdy pony beside her from the corner of her eye, matching her pace as they rode on. Still softly rounded with youth, her small face was set in grim lines, eyes narrowed against the wind stirred in their rapid flight; she did not look back once. The others had stayed behind to fight, to try to buy them time to flee from the danger and find refuge. They had known what their ultimate fate would be, knew that what came for them was not a force that could be defeated and turned away, but they stayed nonetheless. If one could be saved, they had claimed, then it was worth it – this one, their daughter and sister, would go on to live, safe and free, to continue their line and their family . . ._

_. . . The heat began in her chest, where the cruel, icy blade still pierced her breast, her heart, it was intense – endless – a fiery prickling under her skin, flames racing through her veins as her very blood seemed to turn into lava, her bones and flesh to ash as she burned, BURNED . . ._

*T*C*o*F*W*

Her torso arched upright off the mattress as her head flung back into the pillow, mouth open as she desperately sucked in air to scream, her frantic cries echoing around the room as she writhed, clawing at the bedding with curled hands as she tried to hold on to something – anything – as she felt like her skin was two sizes too small, constricting around her. She wondered, almost distractedly, if her heart had turned into a flaming coal, pumping liquid fire through her veins instead of blood as her lungs worked like bellows, intensifying the heat. Her head tossed wildly from side to side as she felt as if she was becoming a pillar of living flame, burning alive, as the feverish energy in her veins built up to an almost unbearable level, before suddenly seeming to explode from her. It wasn't fire, she thought dazedly, in realisation as she looked about her – it was magic, HER magic was nearly _throbbing_ through her as it purged outwards in a violent display of wild power. When would it end, she wondered almost hysterically, her eyes wide and frightened as the power simply _poured_ from her in apparently never-ending waves as her body shuddered from the sheer force.

Then, as if a switch had flipped, it stopped. No warning, no slowing or hesitation – one moment she was at the centre of a storm of chaotic energy, the next the flow simply snapped off and she slumped back to the bed, utterly drained and limp. She was gasping, trying to breathe through the pain of excessive magical exertion, trying to think through the sudden fatigue that rolled through her body and mind – what was wrong with her? Her magic didn't just explode like that, not without a reason – and why did it feel so strange, as if it was blazing through her rather than flowing like normal? Her eyes were so heavy, her brain was hazy and dull from the previous outburst – she closed her eyes and surrendered to the exhaustion, her mind fixing on one nagging thought – where was she? Her surroundings were completely unfamiliar to her; she had never seen this room before in her life. Before she could panic or even try to move, the darkness took her under once more.

*T*C*o*F*W*

The next time she awoke, her body was shivering uncontrollably as the last vestiges of wild energy discharged into the room. She ground her teeth, holding back her screams as she endured. Finally, it was over, a groan escaping her clenched teeth, as the power seemed to leak into the walls – no, not the walls, the Wards within them were absorbing the overflow of magic, all but glowing under the boost of fresh power – as she lay back against the sheets, still trembling a little. She looked around her warily – what was this place? Looking down at herself, she saw that she was in a nightshirt – one of her own – of deep blue with Enchanted broomsticks and bludgers zooming around on the dark background, along with the matching boxer shorts.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when a voice abruptly echoed through the room, apparently from the wall opposite her, there was no-one else in here – she was alone.

"Arielle?"

She stared fixedly at the wall, eyes moving till she spied two runes, glowing faintly, in the upper left side – _Os_ and _Gebo_ for communication. That voice had been very familiar, but she wasn't about to answer, not until she knew more about what was going on here.

"Arielle, are you alright? Can you tell me how you feel?"

"What happened? Where am I?" was her only response, as she moved the bedcovers aside, sliding her legs over the side of the bed to sit up. The movement caused the room to whirl about her, as her head spun and her vision blurred. Dizzy, her head slumped forward into her hands, as she propped her elbows on her thighs, and breathed deeply – inhaling through her nose, exhaling from her lips.

"Please, Ari, be careful. Do not move too quickly, not yet." The disembodied voice rang in her ears as she struggled to get her bearings, still breathing deeply as she raised her head, looking to the corner where the sigils still glowed. "It has been nearly two weeks and you have barely moved in all that time, except to struggle and scream while your magic purged."

"What happened?" Ari repeated herself as her vision finally cleared completely, and she could gaze around herself without seeing sparks and white spots in front of her eyes. Apparently realising that she had no intention of communicating freely without some reassurance, the familiar tones sounded out again.

"Hold on, Ari. Look into the centre of the wall; you will be able to see us in just a moment."

Her brow quirked, the centre of the wall was just that – a solid stone wall. Until another set of runes lit up, scrolling through from left to right – and the wall turned clear. There was a room beyond hers, she discovered, a room with four very familiar people peering in at her.

"Kingsley? Andra?" It_ was_ Andromeda who had been speaking to her via the runes – or, at least, someone who had taken on her appearance. Given the way she'd woken up isolated and in unfamiliar surroundings, she wasn't prepared to go on faith that everything was as it appeared right now. "What's going on?" Her suspicious stare all but drilled through the clear barrier separating her from the other four, as her intent gaze switched to the other two watching her just as closely. She stood up, staying still for a moment, as her dizziness threatened to make a comeback. She gritted her teeth and paced, slowly, over toward the now-clear wall, halting a few feet away. "Is anyone going to fill me in on the situation, or are you going to leave me in suspense?"

"Ari . . ." Draco Malfoy – or his Polyjuiced imposter – moved up to the barrier, putting his hand against it as he looked in at her. ". . . We thought we lost you, when they told us about the fight in Diagon Alley and that you'd been badly injured in the cross-fire. Then, they told us that something was wrong with your magic – that you were having outbursts – and your body was bearing the brunt of it. It was killing you – _it might still kill you_ – if we can't find a way to fix it."

"Fix what? What is he talking about?" appealing now to the others to explain, to clear up the confusion that had only increased with Draco's words. Hermione snorted, rolling her eyes in disgust as she moved up beside Draco, digging her pointed elbow into his ribs sharply in reprimand. If this was an imposter, they were good, really good; they had Hermione's mannerisms down pat. Draco winced, rubbing his abused side gingerly, as he bent a rather malicious eye on his companion.

"Ari, you might want to sit down for this. It's a long story, and you're not looking too steady, right now." Hermione gazed at her, a deep worry reflected in the back of her dark-brown eyes as they stared at each other through the transparent wall between them.

"Apparently, I've been lying around for the better part of a fortnight – isn't that enough rest for anybody?" was Ari's ironic rejoinder, even as she submitted with ill grace, looking around and seeing a chair on the other side of the bed. Crossing the room, she grabbed it and carried it back in front of the wall, setting it down and plonking herself on it, leaning forward with her arms propped on her thighs, as she pinned the four in front of her with a suddenly icy emerald glare. "Before we start having this little chat of ours, I suggest that you actually prove to me that you are precisely who you all claim to be, I am an Enforcer, after all," her smile was wide and mirthless, showing a lot of teeth, "As well as a veteran of the Blood War – I've seen Polyjuice and some incredibly elaborate Glamours from up close and personal, I've even used them myself – so I know how it works."

Kingsley bellowed out a great laugh, his deep tones rumbling throughout the chamber where the others stood. "And finally, _I_ believe it for myself!" he boomed, still chuckling as his dark face split in a relieved grin as he winked at her. "If any of us had doubts before, you've just killed – no, _flogged and slain_ – them utterly, you are definitely the one and only Arielle Potter."

She smirked coolly. "Considering that I've been here for a while – at least, according to what _you're_ telling me – I would think that you've had more than sufficient time to discover any possible indications of a false identity, if any were to be found, by now. But, that still doesn't answer _my_ concerns about this situation," she waved her hand to indicate the lot of them.

Kingsley pursed his lips, and nodded. "Fair enough. Well," he ran his hand over his shaven scalp as he pondered. "After _that_ meeting . . ." he cocked his eyebrow at her meaningfully as her lips quirked, ever so slightly, ". . . I called you into my office and proceeded to lock the doors, before I gave you the bollocking of your life – or at least, of your career . . ." he recounted the severe dressing-down he had delivered in the privacy of his Ministerial chambers, finishing, ". . . Then I cracked open that barrel of Rosmerta's Oak Mead, and we got absolutely rolling drunk, and laughed about it for the rest of the afternoon."

Ari's lips pulled into a smirk as she stared through the wall, rolling her shoulders casually. "I still maintain my innocence in the matter, and protest that I was unfairly blamed for a malicious prank in which I had no part. Although, I _am_ surprised you even remember THAT clearly," she cast her mind back to the rather vague impressions in her memory, she had been quite soused that day – the hangover the next morning had been HELL. "'Cause I surely do not, Rossy's mead is a killer – glides down as smooth as a rocking horse, then kicks like a cornered mule."

Kingsley snorted in glee, as Andra glared at him imperiously. "Honestly, Kingsley, and you the Minister of Magic – you all let her get away with murder!"

"How can you punish someone with that face? She'd have the whole entire Auror Corps up in arms with one sad little pout, along with a flutter of her eyelashes, if you suspended her," Draco managed to get out around bouts of rather undignified giggling – Malfoy's do not giggle, according to the Law of Lucius. Draco didn't care. His father could be such an uptight snob, sometimes – well, both of his parents, really. As much as he dearly loved the two of them, Draco had to roll his eyes sometimes over their fixation with How Things Should Be.

One by one, they offered little anecdotes, with details known only to Arielle and the individuals themselves up until now, so that she could be assured that this was not some kind of elaborate setup. She leaned back, processing everything, looking around her before turning back to them. "So . . . this room is clearly designed to isolate me from others. Why?" She regarded them narrowly as the quartet exchanged uneasy glances. "Build the suspense, why don't you?" was her mutter of disgust as she slumped back against the hard, wooden spine of the chair, crossing her legs and staring each of them in the eyes, _hard_.

She looked through the transparent dividing wall between her and the others, disbelieving of this entire situation. "Well?" she asked. "Someone is eventually gonna have to talk to me, before I start going nuts and break out of here. You know – you _all_ know – that I don't like being confined."

Kingsley snorted slightly. "Yeah, I think we've managed to work that out over the years. You got hit in some cross-fire out there: you were struck by some very nasty Dark Spells from the last surviving Hydras and got thrown back; unfortunately, you managed to intercept quite a few of the Spells the backup Aurors cast trying to defend you, that they'd intended for _them_. The combination of whatever you were struck with," he gestured at the room she was in, "Didn't prove to be beneficial to your health. You're in there . . . for protection."

"Protection?" she gave him a look that said she didn't buy it. "Whose protection are we talking about here, Shack? I mean, look at me. I'm locked up in a room with no doors, or windows, just-" she pointed out the barrier between them, "-This, a Warded room – with a magical see-through wall – where apparently others can watch me without my knowledge." Her expression was fierce as she stared at him, coldly. If there was anything that Ari hated, it was the idea of being spied on without her consent – she'd had enough oversight and interference in her life to last her, she wasn't going back to being an overprotected, unwitting pawn for anyone, ever again.

"That is not true, Ari!" Andra exclaimed in dismay. "This _is_ for your safety, and we would never dream of invading your privacy for some voyeuristic purpose!"

Ari was out of her chair, stalking to the wall and slamming her fist into it. "How did you know that I was awake to begin with, if you aren't watching me? You told me not to move, when I went to sit up, so you must have been able to see me while the wall was still solid! How dare you!"

They all flinched from her wrath. Andra swallowed hard. "There is a viewing panel-"

"_Turn – it – off!_" her tone was all the more intimidating for being very quiet, with cold menace dripping from every word as she spoke clearly, her eyes all but glowing with rage. "I had a gutful with _Dumbledore_-" sneering the name with malice, "-And his fucking minions interfering with every part of my life, trying to manipulate me into being their precious bloody _golden girl_, their saviour, so that they wouldn't have to get their hands dirty during the war. Nobody has the right to do that to anyone – but no one spoke up, there was no one who stopped to take a minute and think 'Are we actually doing the right thing, here?', everyone just let him do whatever he wanted to me _and the people I loved_ – because he was Albus_ bloody _Dumbledore, so he got away with it."

"Ari, calm down," Draco was face-to-face with her through the barrier, his hands spread in front of him in an attempt at appeasement for the furious woman before him. "The viewing panel was only put in a day ago, when the Healers told us that you were finally showing signs of waking up properly. We can't go in there with you – it's not safe – so they installed it so that we could watch from here when we came in to see you without making you worse."

"Worse? Worse, how? Am I contagious, or something?" she laughed in disbelief as she stared at them. "Come on – you told me that I got taken down by cross-fire, you don't get diseases or catch infections from Hexes that you can transmit to other people from that."

Draco stepped back, running his palm around the back of his neck as he looked over to Andra. "Aunt Andra? You might want to take this one. I wouldn't even know where to begin." So saying, he went and sat back down, slumped in his chair with an air of defeat that scared Ari more than any words ever could. Draco was never at a loss for words – seven years in Hogwarts together had taught her that.

Andra winced, opening her mouth to speak before she was interrupted by the opening of the door behind her and the others. They turned around, and Ari cocked her head curiously, as two female Goblins walked in, one holding a tray of food as the other held the door for them. The one who had held the tray walked straight to the wall where Ari was watching, staring up at her solemnly, as the other remained at the door holding it ajar. "I believe that you humans have a saying," she spoke calmly, "That to _see_ is to _believe_. I think that my sister and I can assist you with that." She turned to the others in the room. "You know what to do."

All four nodded, standing as Hermione looked to Ari. "We'll be right outside, Ari. Everything is fine, you're not in danger."

"If this isn't dangerous, why are you leaving?"

"Because while you are safe with _them,_ right now, _we_ are not safe to be around you." Hermione spoke over her shoulder as she filed out the door after the other three. She turned in the doorway to look back. "We will explain everything when we come back in, I promise." The little Goblin shut the door as Hermione stepped out of the way; there were tears pooling in her brown eyes as she stared at Ari, pleading silently for her friend's understanding.

The door closed, and Ari was left alone with the two little women. The one with the tray introduced them both, "I am Joba, Miss Potter, and my sister is Gulan," the other woman waved at her distractedly as she crossed to the panel that contained several inlaid runic arrays, pressing her clawed hand on one set that lit up beneath her fingers. Ari stepped back as the wall in front of her parted like a set of electronic sliding doors. Joba came through with the tray as Gulan followed her in, both walking over to the bedside table and indicating for Ari to follow them. After looking over her shoulder at the door, she did, seating herself on the edge of the bed.

Gulan was standing just across from her while Joba set down the tray and turned back around, both Goblins simply stared at Arielle. She stared back, arching her brow in question, the females seemed familiar for some reason, but Ari was sure she'd never met them before. This impression was only reinforced by the fact that Joba had just introduced herself and her sister to her.

Then, she felt something. Her magic was stirring, rising inside her. She was confused, she hadn't called on it and she didn't particularly enjoy how it felt at this moment. It was fierce and edgy, almost burning under her skin as it _moved _through her as though it was a living thing, separate of her will. It seemed to be reaching for something, calling out, but she didn't know why or what it wanted. Gulan's hand was suddenly holding her right hand, as Joba's clawed fingers grasped her left. "Don't be afraid, Miss Potter," Gulan spoke up for the first time, "No one in this room will come to any harm, we are here to help you."

"What are you talking about?" Ari almost gasped out, panting a little from the heavy sensation of her magic gathering in her, prickling along her skin. Her pupils dilated as she looked at them, the feeling was _so intense_, and they only smiled at her.

"Let it go, dearie," was all Gulan would say.

"Let . . . what . . . go?" she couldn't catch her breath properly in between the sudden surges that swept her, the magic pulsing in time with her heart, building . . . _and pulling_. She gasped out in alarm, trying to tear her hands free, but the two women held on tight as their magic surged from them _into _Arielle. Both their heads were slumped forward from the sheer speed of the magic flowing from them, they let the energy go where it willed, as Arielle flung her head back and screamed. Her magic was swelling, almost bloated from the waves of power being sucked into her, filling her up to the point of bursting, before it surged back out of her – back towards Joba and Gulan, still clinging onto her hands. It entered them once more, as they gasped in agony – or ecstasy – it was hard to tell which as they quivered under the onslaught. It felt like it went on forever – an endless loop of magic from Arielle to the Goblins and back again, flowing through all of them. Finally, the surges ebbed, as Arielle slumped in exhaustion, her vision darkening around the edges as she fell to her side on the bed. The two women released her hands, Joba walked up towards where Ari's head lolled on the bed; she was struggling to catch her breath.

"You mustn't fall asleep yet, Miss Potter. You need to eat, and speak with your friends." Joba managed to pull Ari back into a sitting position on the bed, pulling a bottle from her dress and handing it to her. "A little Pepper-Up to boost your energy, dearie," she claimed, smiling at the girl.

"W-what h-h-ha-happened?" Ari slurred, barely conscious at this point, as she struggled with the stopper on the vial of potion. It popped off suddenly, almost slipping through her rubbery fingers as she clutched at it frantically. She managed to hang on, lifting it to her lips and sipping delicately. She felt it immediately, sitting up a bit straighter, as the bright spots in her vision faded away. The lightheaded, dizzy sensation passed as she continued to sip, eyeing the tray on the table with sudden interest.

"You've been in a very bad way, for a while now, ever since the attack in Diagon Alley," Joba explained as she pulled the bedside table over towards where Arielle was seated, arranging it in front of her. "You probably won't remember us, seeing as it's the first time you've been truly conscious and aware since then, but my sister and I have been looking after you here since you were brought in."

"Thank you," Ari offered, as she continued to sip at the vial. "I don't really understand any of this, or what just happened, but somehow I get the feeling that I'm very grateful for all that you've done for me. You're right, I don't remember you or Gulan," waving her hand towards the other woman, as she busied herself with the chair in front of the wall, bringing it back to settle it before the table, "But you do seem familiar, in a way."

"Your subconscious mind more than likely has retained impressions of having us with you, as we've been the main caretakers over the last week and a half, working through these flare-ups you keep having. Thankfully, you seem to be settling down a bit now, though you still have a very long way to go before you're truly healed. You're certainly welcome though, dearie," Joba responded, as she reached out her hand for the vial in Ari's, empty now. Ari handed it over and stood up at Gulan's beckoning gesture to sit down in the chair to eat. "I only wish we could do more, honestly, but circumstances being what they are," Joba trailed off, sighing heavily.

"What do you mean?" Ari had picked up the knife and fork as Joba spoke, but she set them down again as she turned to address the short little female.

Joba smiled thinly. "Perhaps we should leave those answers for your friends to explain, we should leave now just in case your magic decides to get going again, anyway."

"Again?" Ari's dismay was obvious as she stared at the two who were moving to the open wall between the two rooms.

They exited her room, Gulan once more moving to the command panel to close the partition, even as Ari stood up in slight panic at the thought of being shut in again. Joba held up her hand gently, calmly. "Please, Miss Potter, for your own safety. You are not being locked in, as much as the world is being kept out, so you cannot be harmed. You don't know just how fragile your health is right now, with your magic as wild as it is. Whenever we have come to you previously, to let your magic call upon ours and return it to us, it has always been right after one of the random surges that you've been prone to – when your body and your power is momentarily drained, quiescent – otherwise that flow of energy, the push and pull between us all, would have been much more violent and unrestrained."

"More than THAT?" Ari was incredulous. "It felt like I was caught in a tsunami as it was – and you're telling me it could have been worse. What is wrong with me, how can my magic do that to you, and why would you allow me to draw from you like that? I could have killed you!"

Joba sighed, turning to watch as Gulan opened the door to allow the others to file back into the adjoining room, now that the wall had sealed itself once more. She twisted back around to face Ari through the barrier. "The outburst you felt before – the one that awoke you after all this time you have spent unconscious – was one of the mildest that you have had since you were brought here, and it is the only one that you've had . . . today." Ari's mouth worked silently, in obvious shock. Joba just smiled, a little sadly. "Talk to your friends, Miss Potter. They can explain all that they know, and try to help you understand." She bowed a little, inclining her head respectfully, as Ari nodded back unsurely; still stunned by everything that had occurred. "And eat." The little Goblin demanded as she walked towards the door that her sister was holding wide. "It will not do for you to undo all our hard work, by not keeping up your strength." With that, the two exited, Gulan closing the door as they left, leaving the five humans alone in the divided chambers.

Ari looked over her shoulder at the table and chair, and sighed, stalking over impatiently to sit. She picked up the knife and fork again, digging in. It was good – tomato soup, mashed potato and beans, carrots and snow peas with fresh-cooked bread for the soup. She polished off a bite, before addressing the four sitting in the other room again. "Y'know, it's gonna get real uncomfortable, having you all sitting around, watching me eat. So, as an alternative," she smiled coolly, looking at them with hard emerald eyes, "Why don't you tell me exactly what happened to me, and why I suddenly seem to have turned into . . ." she gestured with the hand holding her knife, ". . . Some sort of magical . . . Vampire?"

**A/N 2: So, what was THAT all about?**

**For those interested, the rune **Os **means mouth, so essentially communication through words or writing. **Gebo **literally means gift, but the definition I have refers more to the _connection_ between people when a gift is given, the link between the giver and the receiver. For the purposes of my story, they work together to function much as a phone or intercom would, communication between two separate places linked by the Runes.**


	7. Chapter 6: Once Upon A September

**Disclaimer: See first chapter.**

**A/N: So . . . ahem . . . yeah, a bit not good, I know *looks down at ground in shame* It's been a while since I updated. Not because I haven't been working on this, because believe me - I have been WORKING on it. I kid you not when I say that there are at least FIVE versions of this chapter saved to my hard drive and my USB, before I finally managed to grit this one out, and polish and re-polish it until I finally made it work for me. Seriously, I have always sympathised with writers on this site when they write in their author's notes that they had to fight with some of their chapters at times to get them out - but at last, I can actually EMPATHISE with them . . . this was HARD! **

**So, here it is after all my sweating . . . I hope it's worth the wait.**

Chapter 6: Once Upon A September

September 994

In the unclaimed lands west of the Atlantic Ocean

_She Listened intently as she huddled against the trunk of the ancient oak tree, she was high up amongst the branches where it was nearly impossible to see her from the ground – which was exactly what she had intended. The wind blew softly through the trees, rustling the leaves and brushing past her cheeks, it whispered to her as she sat there silently. She could sense nothing out of place; there were no signs of any presence that could pose a threat. Relaxing slightly, yet still alert, she turned her attention to the small leather satchel in her hand. Quickly, she opened it and removed one of the rolls of parchment within. Carefully unrolling the fragile document she studied the words written on it once more, even though she could have recited the contents from memory by now._

_It was the last letter that her family had received from Ione, her sister, a little over two years ago now. It was news that they had welcomed with much celebration; Ione and Eiríkr were now the proud parents of twin daughters, Hana and Kaelin, born just before the end of winter in 991. She remembered that Abbi leapt out of his chair and lifted her into his strong arms, dancing them all around the room as Ummi laughed and clapped. They had been so happy, then. How could they have known that everything would change?_

_She closed her eyes, determined not to falter – now was not the time or the place, she had to concentrate. Shaking her head, she opened her eyes and settled herself on the branch. She breathed in, holding the air in her lungs as she focussed on the parchment she held before her. She leaned in, bringing her face close so that her nose almost brushed the surface . . . and exhaled, slowly and deliberately, over the soft, thin skin. Her mind was intent on her purpose, waiting for the magic to take hold. Her eyes narrowed fractionally, as the words on the page appeared to move for a moment. The writing blurred, and it was as though the parchment was bleeding, as the black ink welled up and ran along the surface to gather at the point where Ione's and Eiríkr's names were signed along with two tiny inked handprints. Ione's elegant script had marked each print with the name of the daughter it belonged to._

_As much as she hated to sacrifice this affirmation of her family – one of the few remaining pieces of proof that she was not alone – it was her best chance for the spell to work, as they had all left their mark on the parchment in one way or another. Such things held great significance . . . and power. Once all of the ink had pooled into that one place, she whispered the words that gave life to her will – words of magic, of seeking, as she wove her power and intent into the charm, speaking their names clearly. The ink was no longer black, first turning red and then to gold, and floated off the parchment, forming into a tiny ball of liquid as the parchment caught alight. She released it as it crumbled to fine black ash, watching as the orb hung suspended in the air for a moment. Once more, she observed intently as it changed from liquid into pure light, softly incandescent. She waited patiently._

_The light brightened suddenly, and then softened again. Once, twice, thrice, the pattern continued, until the light suddenly flickered and the colour went from gold to an eerie shade of blue, casting odd shadows over the face of the watching girl as she hissed and leaned forward in anticipation. The light pulsed once more, and then glided over to her, hovering in front of her face. Closing the bag, she bundled it into her dirty tunic and stood, touching the light with her left index finger as she did. The ball of light seemed to swell at her touch, before it suddenly flew away through the trees. She raced after it, running along the branch as easily as though she was strolling along the ground, surefooted and agile. Towards the end of the limb, she leapt into the next tree, climbing and darting through the tops of the trees like a wire-dancer. She followed behind the charm unerringly as she jumped over branches and ducked under the trailing leaves that blocked her pursuit. Onwards she travelled through the darkness, never losing sight of the glowing orb as it led her through the heavy forest towards that which she sought._

_She stopped suddenly, going into a crouch and freezing in place, as her intuition warned her. She was motionless, something was not right here . . . she could feel it. Her options were limited – the tracking charm would only last as long as she was focussed on it, which meant that she could not cast another spell to locate the source of her disquiet – she could only use her natural instincts to evade the danger. She was so close – she knew it in her heart – and she was not about to lose her chance now, not when she had already come so far! It would be fine as long as she was alert. Her eyes narrowed at the orb which had stopped when she had, it was hovering in the air, waiting for her to start moving again. She held out her hand, and the light drifted over to her, floating above her hand before descending into the cradle of her palm. Best not to take any chance, she concluded, if the threat was from another witch, her spell could draw their attention if it was left out in the open. In her hands, the sphere would only signal if she went the wrong way – it was slower, but safer._

_Stepping off the branch, she plummeted towards the ground and landed on her feet, crouching slightly as she scanned her surroundings cautiously. Nothing. She rolled her shoulders tensely, she had been in the trees for a reason – there were not very many predators that could get to her, or at least not without a great deal of effort. She shrugged away her irritation and concentrated. Drawing in a breath and holding it, she closed her eyes. Her magic was there, ready and waiting. She drew it deep inside, to the point where she could only faintly sense it, concealing her power to lessen the chances of detection by any who might wish her harm. Opening her eyes, she blew out her breath and straightened her shoulders. Her face was resolute, eyes swiftly flickering about her as she strode on, watching and listening carefully. She would not turn back now!_

*T*C*o*F*W*

_She was crouched on a branch once more, not as high as before because this tree was a sapling, some thirty feet tall. Her spine was tingling in agitation as she eyed the little cabin that the spell had led her to – was this it? Had she really made it after all this time? She wanted to believe that it was so, but her experiences in the past had left her deeply wary. She had been hurt before, hunted down like an animal by those that claimed they only wished to help her._

_The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. The Darkness that she had sensed previously was closer than ever, and it felt cold and spiteful, like icy fingernails being dragged across her skin . . . it had to be here! Whatever – _or whoever_ – this Darkness came from; they were here in this village. She was suddenly afraid – if Eiríkr and Ione really were here – were they in danger? She certainly was not going to find out by sitting in a tree all night, she decided, slipping off the branch and jumping back down to the ground. Looking around carefully to ensure that she was unseen, she dashed across the open space between the edge of the woods and the cabin – oh, bless the spirits, that this house was built well away from all the others, she thought. If everything went well and she had finally found her sister, the knowledge of her presence here in the village would be a secret, held only by their family._

_Now, how to do this . . . it was very late, and they were probably sleeping. It could not be helped, though, as waiting until morning would only heighten the chances of her being discovered. She crouched under the eastern window, where chinks in the wooden shutters showed faint traces of candlelight from the small house – someone was still awake. She peeked through one of the larger cracks – the interior was one large room with four people inside, two children were asleep in the large bed against the far wall, and the two adults were sitting by the fire-pit in the centre, a male and a female. The woman was certainly a witch – witches always knew their own kind – but there was only one way to find out if this was her family . . . the only family she had left. She sensed no threat or malice here, no warning to stay away, so she steeled her nerve and crept towards the door._

_Exhaling softly, she faced away from the door and out towards the clearing around the log cabin. She raised her hands as she concentrated – envisioning a wall between this house and the others in the tiny settlement. Feeling the magical barrier snap into place, she huffed in relief. She scanned the night-shrouded village warily, watching for any sign that the magic of the sealing spell had been detected. She had not forgotten the possible threat that lurked here – using magic could prove to be dangerous – but there was no other way. She could not risk having the whole village woken up by any commotion from the house if this did not go well. The invisible seal would prevent that, by keeping all sounds from passing through until the spell was lifted._

_Turning back, she whispered under her breath as her eyes looked intently at the wooden shutters she had previously knelt under. The invisible force tapped on the window. The voices within the cabin suddenly cut off – there was utter silence. She waited tensely, listening. Her body stiffened when she heard the slight scraping of leather against steel, her eyes widened – a blade sliding from a scabbard! Reacting quickly, she focussed on all the doors and windows and tapped on all of them with magic – simultaneously. She heard a soft gasp, and then a slight push against her magic. She held her ground and answered the call firmly – determined to show that she was not to be trifled with. Rapid footsteps moved towards the door; it seemed the male did not appreciate being trifled with either, especially when his home was apparently under attack. Lighter, quicker footsteps padded after his, before both stopped just short of the door. Though she strained her ears, she heard nothing from inside until it seemed that the man slowly shifted away from the door. A dull, heavy _thwap_ sounded, followed by a sharp squeal that was quickly stifled – good gods, she thought, backing away fearfully – had he _hit_ her? She darted her eyes around, all but bouncing on the spot in her agitation – she did not know whether to stay or to flee into the night – now that there was the prospect of dealing with a large, potentially violent man. Been there, done that – and she had scars to prove it, she thought with a shiver – never again. The door inched open before she could flee, and she froze. She could not move as the witch stared through the slender gap, looking into the night and wrinkling her brow in confusion when she did not see anyone._

_The girl stared at her – the dark hair and eyes, it had to be her sister – she was just like Ummi! "Io?" she asked, barely audible as she tried to speak through a throat that suddenly felt dry and itchy, and the backs of her eyes were burning. The woman's eyes snapped down – she knew those eyes! She had seen them every day whenever she looked at her mother. The woman never spoke, just frowned slightly and raised her head to peer about her once more. Feeling the slight push of power once again, the girl waited patiently – the witch would be able to See for herself that she was here alone. Withdrawing her probe, the woman tilted her head as she studied the other. They observed one another warily, until the older female seemed to make up her mind. She opened the door wide and knelt down, perhaps to seem less intimidating to the other, but the girl shrank back as the man growled angrily – he was huge! Standing next to the bed where the children slept on, peacefully oblivious, he glared menacingly across to where she stood in the shadows. He made no move to advance, though, remaining with the babes – he was guarding them, protecting them from any threat, she thought. It was somehow reassuring to her, as she knew that Abbi had been the same way when his family was threatened._

_Still timid, she stepped cautiously back into the doorway, tense and nervous as she waited for their reaction to her appearance. The female's eyes widened, as the man sucked in air sharply, looking at her intently. She stiffened as he suddenly stalked to the door, stopping beside his wife and falling to his knees as they peered at her – no, at her eyes. The people in al-Gulawesi had always said she had Abbi's eyes. Bright red hair gleamed in the soft light in the room as he leaned toward her slightly. She shrank away again – men made her uneasy. She still remembered that it had not always been so – her father had been unfailingly tender with her and his wife, her mother. She knew that, but she had learned other things as well – a man was stronger than a woman, stronger than a child. Men were only gentle if they wanted to be, and she had seen what could happen when a man decided to use his greater strength against those who were weaker than himself. She was startled out of her grim musings on the horrors of her past as he whispered in disbelief, "Marta?"_

_She frowned at him, brows drawn tight at the strange word. Marta? What was marta? Perhaps this was a mistake . . . she should just leave and stay hidden from all others. It surely would not be so bad to be on her own, she had been alone all this time. Looking from one to the other, she noted their strange expressions – their bodies were still and quiet, as their eyes asked something that she did not understand. What did they want from her? The word he had spoken, 'Marta', echoed quietly inside her mind as she studied him. His bright hair sparked something in her memory, along with those pale eyes . . ._

. . . "Marta!" she giggled merrily as she ran along the dusty road, unheeding of the yells from the annoyed youth chasing after her, calling for her to come back. She did not want to go home yet, she wanted to run and explore – how she loved to run – sometimes, she thought that if she just ran fast enough, she might just leave the earth beneath her feet behind and fly through the air. She often watched the wild birds – "Marta!" a long, pale arm shot out from behind her and curled around her waist. Her feet left the ground involuntarily as he plucked her up into his arms, even as she kicked and squealed in protest.

He turned her in his arms and sternly ignored her shrill objections, as she pouted up at the scowling young man with his long, red hair falling wildly around his face. A light sweat had broken out along his temples from running after her, causing loose strands of hair to stick to his flushed cheeks as he perched her on his waist and turned back towards their home. She pounded on his chest with her tiny fists, demanding that he listen to her. "NO! No, Arik!" . . .

_"M-m-m-ar-t-ta?" The hoarse rasp of her own voice startled her as she spoke – testing out the name from her distant memories – perhaps being all alone was not such a good thing, she mused inwardly. Apart from the use of the words needed for her spells and blessings along her journey, she had been silent for the most part . . . there had been few people that she had met on the way that she wished to talk to, and she was not in the habit of speaking to herself. Was it possible to forget how to talk at all, if one did not speak for a long period of time, she wondered. Her own name had almost been lost to her – she was not Marta, as this man had named her – to Ummi and Abbi, she was Ma`at. Her head angled slightly towards them although her body was still balanced on the balls of her feet, ready to flee at any moment – she could not decide what to do._

_His eyes had widened slightly at the sound of her voice, and his face softened slightly – as if he was willing her to remember him, to trust them. Her eyes darted to the witch, who stared back at her with those eyes that she knew so well, eyes that carried the same emotions that she had seen on that day – the last day with her mother and father before they told her to flee, to run far away and never look back. Love – she remembered it, knew that she had loved Ummi and Abbi, just as they cherished her in turn; pain – the anguish of parting from them, and understanding that she would never see them again; hope – her father had knelt before her and looked deep into her eyes as he told her that he was so proud of her, his little fledgling, knowing that she was ready to leave their nest and fly free . . . she would travel over the seas to the western lands and find her sister, and they would be a family together. She saw all of these feelings, and more, in her sister's eyes. This was her sister – "Io? Io and . . . Arik? Ummi and Abbi told me to come here, to find Io and Arik." She switched her gaze between them, gauging their reactions. Ione closed her eyes and pressed her fisted hand against her mouth, seeming to stifle a sob, as Eiríkr huffed and his mouth tilted slightly. Was he smiling? She was unsure._

_All doubt was removed as he beamed at her, his grey eyes tender and warm. "Yes, Marta. Do you remember? You were only a baby . . . you could not say our names so your sister was Io, and I was Arik. I remember chasing you around the house, because Ummi Zafira wanted you to bathe, and all you wished to do was run wild," he finished quietly, smiling at the memories._

_"I loved to run . . . but what I really wanted to do was fly," she said softly, peeking at him shyly from under her lashes. He bit his lip in surprise, before he snorted in amusement. His deep chuckles choked off in a gasp as he twisted his upper body to peer behind him. A tiny form stepped around him from where she had been standing right behind his tall frame, unseen by the other three. The little girl, with her long red hair tangled from sleeping, rubbed at her eyes tiredly and gazed at Ma`at curiously. Her twin was awake as well, clutching at her mother's tunic with both of her tiny hands, her face buried in the cloth, even as she sneaked shy glances at this mysterious guest._

_"Kaelin! What are you and Hana doing out of bed?" Eiríkr scolded the child, frowning heavily at her. She was completely unintimidated by his dark scowl, giving him a sunny, gap-toothed smile. Kaelin's dark eyes turned back to the new arrival, studying her intently, before pointing a chubby finger in her direction._

_"Ours?" she questioned curiously. She took a small step towards the older girl, cocking her head as she stared up at her, completely unfazed at finding a total stranger in her home so late. She stepped forward again before she paused suddenly, wrinkling her little nose in disgust. Her tiny hand clapped over her nose and she gagged a little, eyes watering as she tottered back into her father's arms. Ma`at winced, and muttered slightly in embarrassment, feeling her cheeks grow hot in shame – "Bath!" came Kaelin's slightly muffled squawk, as her hand was still covering her mouth and nose – it was not as if Ma`at did not recognise her dishevelled state! She was absolutely filthy, caked in sweat and mud and blood – she knew that – but ever since she had arrived on the shores of this land, she had been determined to find her family. She had not wanted to risk losing the trail by trying to find a creek or river to swim in._

_Ione's hand reached out and took hers, pressing lightly as Ma`at stared at her. She smiled gently in reassurance as Eiríkr stood, nudging Kaelin gently over towards her mother and sister as Ione spoke huskily, "This is your Khālah, girls, your Aunt Ma`at. She has come to us from over the great sea, from the eastern lands." As she was speaking, Eiríkr had moved outside, carefully walking wide around Ma`at. "And yes," Ione continued, "I think we can arrange for her to have a bath. I know that she will be relieved to be clean and fresh again." Ma`at was no longer paying attention to her sister's words; she was staring after Eiríkr anxiously as he stood halfway between the house and the trees, looking around with his hands on his hips._

_She tugged her hand free of Ione's and ran out to him, clutching a fistful of his breeches and tugging to get his attention. He looked down at her in confusion, lips parting to question her actions, but she cut him off. "Eiríkr, it is not safe out here. The Darkness might find us if we are too far away from the house."_

_"Dark-?"_

_"Eiríkr!" she hissed frantically, tugging at his tunic now, darting her eyes around in panic – the barrier was still there, but it was only a spell to keep any sound from passing through the seal, it was not meant to keep people out. And if a witch was actively scrying, they might sense the seal or pierce it if they were powerful enough – it was NOT safe out here in the open! She looked imploringly at Ione – surely she could talk some sense into her stubborn husband. Ione frowned in bewilderment at Ma`at's sudden dread, before she lifted her head and studied the area around them warily – she knew that her little sister was very powerful, she had felt it earlier – if she was scared, there must be a good reason. She looked to her husband, her eyes apprehensive._

_Eiríkr gazed back, his eyes narrowing as he cast them about guardedly . . . he did not see anything, but _he_ was not a witch. He knew there could be other forces at work that he would not be able to sense – he had grown up in the home of a powerful witch, after all. Zafira Thessalias was the mother of Ione and Ma`at, and his foster-mother. He scooped Ma`at into his arms as he strode back to the house, waving Ione back inside with the girls as he swiftly entered and closed the door behind him. He bolted the door, and walked to the wooden bench in front of the fireplace in the centre of the house, still carrying Ma`at. Up until Kaelin had made her distaste so clear, he had ignored the girl's rather pitiful state – but with her head tucked under his chin, it was difficult to overlook the . . . ripe . . . odour of her small body._

_He looked over his shoulder – the twins had followed along behind him – but Ione was halfway between the hearth and the door with her back turned, seemingly staring at the wall. Her back stiffened suddenly, and her head turned to look over her shoulder at her sister. "Is that-"_

_"-No. That is the seal I put up," was Ma`at's quick response to her sister's concern. Eiríkr rolled his eyes – witches and their spells! "I was not sure if I had the right place," she continued, quietly. "If I had been wrong, I had to be able to run away quickly without having others chasing after me – so I put up a spell to make sure no one in the village could hear." Her explanation was quiet as she stared seriously at Ione, willing her to understand her reasons._

_Ione's eyes widened in shock. "You can perform a sealing spell?" she asked blankly, before waving her hand impatiently. "What am I saying? Obviously, you can, as I can feel it." She rolled her eyes at herself, walking towards them. "What Darkness did you speak of, sister? Why were you so afraid?" she asked tenderly, coming to stand behind her husband as her hand smoothed over his shoulder to rest against her sister's cheek. "Tell us, little pearl," she whispered, "Let us share your worries, you are not alone any longer."_

_Eiríkr interjected, desperately wanting answers to the questions that had been burning in his mind ever since he had realised who it was that had come to their home in the middle of the night. "Marta," he shifted her weight so that she looked at him. "Where are Ummi Zafira and Abbi Leandros?" Her little face fell at his question, her skin blanching in shock as her eyes went dark. Ione's hand fell from her cheek to clench – hard – on his broad shoulder, as her breathing quickened in distress._

_"Eiríkr," she whispered harshly, but he did not relent. He had to know – how was it that his little Marta had come to them like this – where were her parents? Ma`at buried her face against his shoulder, as her too-thin arms wound tightly around his neck. He felt the shivers that raced through her and raged silently at her condition – she was so thin and filthy, and her clothing was barely fit to be called rags, hanging off her in tattered folds – who had allowed this to happen? She was half-starved and almost feral, as if she had fended for herself for too long. His eyes closed as he swallowed hard – part of him had known the moment that he had seen her, but he had tried to deny it in his heart – he felt Ione press herself against his back as she shook with silent sobs, he knew that she wept because he could feel the wetness on her cheeks against his spine._

_There was no way that Zafira and Leandros Thessalias would ever have allowed their youngest child to make such a perilous journey on her own – _not as long as they were alive_._

_The thought was enough to turn his legs to sand; he turned to wrap his free arm around his wife, sinking down onto the wooden plank with the sisters in his arms as his throat swelled with grief. Kaelin and Hana had been standing there silently, confused and upset by all the tension in the air that they did not understand, but now Kaelin hurled herself against her father's legs as she began to sniffle. Hana climbed onto the bench and curled up in her mother's lap before she began to cry as well. Ma`at let go of Eiríkr's neck, plucking Kaelin off the floor and into his lap with her, curling her arms around the distraught child as Eiríkr held them both tightly and mourned for their loss._

_A long time later, Eiríkr stirred as a coal burst in the hearth, sending up sparks. The twins had succumbed to their exhaustion a while ago as Kaelin snored lightly against Ma`at's chest. Ione was staring into the fire, her eyes swollen and red though her tears had dried up long before. He ran his hand over her cheek until she looked up at him. He nodded his head towards Hana, her cheek resting on Ione's hip, as she slumbered on. Ione nodded and sat up, taking care not to disturb the peaceful child as she gave her to her father. Ma`at gently rolled Kaelin from her lap to Eiríkr's, hopping down once the little girl was secure, so that he could stand. Holding the two girls easily, he silently jerked his head towards one corner of the house, closed off with a woollen blanket hanging from the ceiling. Ione nodded, quirking her lip slightly. Eiríkr bent down, kissing Ma`at softly on the forehead before he whispered goodnight as she stared up at him solemnly and whispered goodnight back._

_After kissing his wife, he walked over to the large bed and lay down, cradling the girls against him as he snuggled under the covers and closed his eyes. Ione ran her hand over Ma`at's snarled mess of hair and sighed a little. She walked to the hearth and crouched to pick up an iron poker with a hook at the end. She scooped a hot, clay brick out of the ashes with the hook, laying it on an iron tray, and dug around in the ashes until she had five bricks. Using the wooden handle on the end to pick up the tray, she gestured for her sister to go ahead of her to the corner. Ducking under the blanket and holding it out of the way for Ione, she saw a large iron tub that even Eiríkr could have sat in quite comfortably. Ione dipped her hand in, before flicking her fingers at her sister with a slight grin. Ma`at sucked in a sharp breath and wriggled at the sudden chill – the water in that tub was freezing! She glared at her sister, who only smirked back and shifted the tray. So that was what the bricks were for, she realised._

_Ione set the tray down to pick up a wooden bucket that sat beside the metal basin. She scooped it through the water, filling it and setting it down. She nodded at Ma`at to strip off, which the girl did; grateful to be rid of the dirty rags. She was more careful with the tunic, removing the few things that she had carried with her on the way; a sling, a small knife, and the leather case. She handed it to her sister. Ione gasped in shock, she knew it well. It was her – their – father's, kept from his days as a soldier serving in the Imperial Army of Al-Andalus. A cavalry commander, her father had used it often to transport military records between the provinces. Once her father had returned home, however, it had served to hold the keepsakes that her father had considered most precious._

_She looked to her sister, her eyes glossy with unshed tears as she smiled. "Bless you, sister, bless you," she whispered fervently. Ma`at smiled back and the sisters hugged, Ione shedding a few tears of mingled sorrow and joy – her parents were gone, but all was not lost, her little sister had survived and come to them. And she had carried that bag with her all that time, knowing that it was precious, refusing to discard it. Ione wiped her eyes and smiled down at Ma`at. "Let us get you cleaned up." Ma`at nodded fervently – she was more than ready to be rid of this filth!_

_Ione picked up a piece of linen, dipping it into the water before wrapping up one of the hot bricks and placing it into the bucket. The water steamed furiously as Ma`at winced at the hissing sound and jerked her thumb at the curtain, silently asking if the noise would wake them up. Ione shook her head with a smile, crooking her finger. When Ma`at stood beside her, she whispered in her ear, "My daughters take after their father – once they are asleep, they will not wake up until they get hungry, or thirsty." Ma`at giggled softly, and the sisters smiled at each other. The steaming subsided, and Ione dipped her finger into the bucket. Taking it out, she nodded. "Perfect." She pulled the linen-covered stone out, and put it in the tub before handing her a cloth and a small piece of soap, "Scrub," she ordered, as she grabbed a cloth of her own. Together, they worked quickly to lather the smaller girl's hair and body, rubbing at the layers of dirt. To look at her now, no one would believe that she was blonde, Ma`at thought, as she pulled a matted clump of dirty hair forward, and curled her lip in disgust. Ione just clicked her tongue. "Glaring at it will do no good, little pearl; it will have to be scrubbed, one piece at a time." Ma`at huffed as she released the strands._

_"The water is too dirty," she declared, looking at the murky liquid in the bucket._

_Ione nodded in agreement. "I will empty it, and grab the hairbrush. Wait here." She ducked under the blanket, Ma`at heard the back door open and then close quietly as the older woman went to empty the dirty water, she shivered a little at the cool air that came through the door. She scooped up a handful of the water in the tub, and ran it over her head, letting it soak into her hair. Ma`at was rubbing at her scalp when Ione walked back in; she could feel all the grit and sweat as she ran her hands through. She winced, and gritted her teeth as her fingers caught painfully in the knotted curls. Ione refilled the bucket from the basin and put the last sliver of the soap inside, before taking over from her sister's attempts to untangle her snarled locks. She knelt behind Ma`at, getting her to lean forward as she dipped the brush into the water, pulling it through her hair as gently as she could. Over and over, the brush stroked through Ma`at's long curls, Ione patiently working at the seemingly endless knots until they came free. The hard bristles managed to remove most of the mud and debris clinging to her hair as well, and finally her hair was free of the last tangles. Both heaved a sigh of relief, Ma`at was nearly in tears from the pain of the hard brush yanking at the snarls, while Ione was thankful that there had been no need to cut away any of the stubborn knots in her hair._

_She placed all of the bricks in to the tub – in the time it took to brush Ma`at's hair, they had cooled from red-hot to merely warm – so that her sister would be comfortable in the water. Ma`at needed no urging, all but diving in, and sighing contentedly at the warmth. Ione grinned as she splashed happily, cleaning the last stubborn bits of dirt and sweat from her skin before she ducked under the water to rinse the soap suds from her hair._

_Ione offered her hand as Ma`at grasped it to pull herself up and out. Dried off, and dressed in a clean tunic of Ione's, they each took one side of the tub and lifted. Carefully, they walked out the back door. Ione had a small garden planted against the side of the cabin, so they emptied the tub over it. Ione snorted in amused exasperation at Ma`at, who was dancing about the clearing gleefully, revelling in the fresh autumn air. She quickly reminded Ione about the seal, and they rounded the cabin so that she could take it down. Walking back inside with the basin, they quickly mopped up the rest of the spilled water and suds._

_Ione put the bricks back in the ashes of the pit, as Ma`at picked up her sling and knife, tucking them into the tunic, and wandered over to the bed, yawning widely. She crawled under the blankets as Ione joined her, spooning together comfortably. Ma`at was warm again for the first time in a very long time, curled up against Eiríkr's side as he rumbled softly in his sleep, and Ione lay against her back and held her close. The soft darkness had nearly taken her under as she felt Ione lean down to her ear to whisper lovingly, "Welcome to Sætrevatn, little pearl. Welcome home."_

_She smiled. This is what family feels like, she thought, with her eyes closing as her mind drifted away. She was finally safe, and warm, and loved. She was _home_._

*T*C*o*F*W*

Early September 2009

Mystic Falls, Virginia USA

The itchy, tickling sensation that felt like little spiders' legs on her face made her nose twitch as she wriggled slightly in protest. "No!" she whimpered, as she snuggled deeper into the blankets, trying to suppress the idea of what the warmth on her skin and the growing light in the room meant. She was perfectly comfortable right where she was, thank you very much, warm and sleepy and relaxed, and she didn't feel like getting up right now.

_Mrrraoww! _Groaning in disgust at the demanding wail, as the inquisitive kneazle had apparently given up on waking her up subtly by brushing her whiskers over Ari's face, she slitted one eye open to glare at her new familiar, thoroughly unimpressed at the early morning wake-up call. "How come, whenever _you_ want to sleep in _I_ get scratched for disturbing your nap, but it's not okay for me to sleep past dawn when you want attention, hmm?" she murmured grumpily to the preening feline. Happy that her mistress was awake and talking to her, and blithely dismissing her irritable greeting, Maarit purred at her, nuzzling her face as she rumbled contentedly. Ari screwed up her face as she sputtered at Maarit's enthusiastic greeting – a mouthful of kneazle-hair was NOT her idea of breakfast! Flopping over onto her back, she resigned herself to waking up properly . . . her familiar obviously had no intentions of being ignored.

Staring up at the ceiling, her mind went back over all of the events that had lead her here, to this small Virginian town in the United States, so far away from her home in Britain. Maarit hopped onto her belly as she pondered, circling around before lying down on her side and chuffing at her mistress. Ari responded idly, stroking Maarit's sleek coat with one hand as she propped the other under her head, still staring unseeingly at the ceiling above.

*T*C*o*F*W*

Once she had regained consciousness in the unfamiliar surroundings of the Goblin Enclave she'd been taken to for safety, everything had seemed to happen so fast.

_. . . "Tell us about what you remember, the last details that you can recall about that day, and what you went through." Andromeda had asked . . ._

So she had – certain details had been omitted, of course, considering the people she was speaking with . . . other than Kingsley as the Minister of Magic, they were technically civilians – right up until just after the fight against the trio of attackers that she had ended with the _shuriken_ and the twister.

Finally, she demanded that they tell her why she was isolated as she had been . . . what was wrong with her?

_. . . "A magical vampire – I suppose that it is as good a term as any that we have found, so far." Andra had half-laughed as she spoke, hands twisting nervously as she looked Ari in the eyes, trying to find the words to tell the young woman that she'd grown to love as a daughter that she was now fighting for her life, in a way that no one could ever have anticipated . . ._

_. . . "The theory that we've been working on, and nothing that we've found out so far seems to disprove it, is that it isn't you who is contagious, Ari," Draco picked up where Andra had left off. He stood up again, and walked back over to the wall, hands in his pockets. "_We_ are infecting _you_, with our magic. It keeps building inside you as you absorb it, and it's damaging to you because _nobody_ is supposed to contain magic on that scale – your body can't take it, it's being worn down from the constant intake. Even the flare-ups were doing their share of damage, because the violence of the purging was hurting you physically."_

_He wiped a shaking hand down his face as he leaned his shoulder into the wall as if it was the only thing holding him up. "You screamed every time the power poured out of you – as if it was burning you alive from the inside as it rushed through you – and then the cycle just started over. The build-up of all that excess energy made you writhe and groan like you were being tortured, or poisoned – essentially, you were." . . ._

Initially, she had apparently been taken to St. Mungo's, along with the other casualties of the battle – but it seemed that that was a grave mistake. Her magic was trying to heal her, but the injuries she had sustained had severely impacted on her magic – her power had become a siphon for magical energy, tapping into, and draining any source of magic that it could find. Once she had absorbed as much energy as her body could handle, it was released in the form of powerful magical outbursts, progressively growing stronger and more violent, until she had actually blown out the doors of the treatment room she was in. It had turned out to be a good thing, though, the only thing that could have saved the Healers that had been inside the room with her, unconscious and unable to call out for help as her magic drained theirs.

_. . . "We got lucky." Ari's head snapped up at that. "Magic can really be amazing, Ari, I think that you know that better than most people will ever truly appreciate. Even while your magic was building up, your body knew that it could not maintain those levels of power for long – it was the reason why your energy was flaring all the time – you were trying to 'bleed off' the excess. The problem – other than the fact that wild magic does tend to cause a fair bit of chaos and disruption – was that your power was STILL working as a siphon; it had not stopped absorbing energy. It only got stronger as time went on – and you were lying right in the middle of a great magical reservoir: St. Mungo's." . . ._

When the doors were blown off, others outside were finally alerted to the problem, and had raced inside. Velena Polski, one of the Apprentice Healers, had managed to get the unconscious Healers out of the room with help from others who had rushed in, while Ari's fellow Enforcer, Uruk Goldtooth, was busy casting several suppression Wards throughout the room to try and contain her outbursts. They were the last two inside with Ari when he had finished, but as they went for the door Ari's magic surged again, pulling the doors back over the breach and sealing them all inside.

Once the Spell holding the doors had unsealed itself without warning some time later, dropping them back down with a crash as people scrambled to get out of the way, everyone had been stunned to see that Uruk and Velena were fine as they fled from the room. Uruk was swift in putting the doors back up and locking them into place with the strongest Charms he knew, as he warned against anyone going back in there. Their survival, against all the odds, had sparked the theory that led to Ari's discreet entry into the Goblin Enclave for healing. Velena had described what happened in that room while they were trapped, when Ari's magic had tapped into theirs, she had absorbed it and then discharged it . . . _and it had flowed straight back into them_. That had not been the case with the other Healers, because they were all human. Uruk Goldtooth was a Goblin, and Velena Polski was a pure-blooded Veela.

_. . . "When I said that WE were contagious to you, the people that I was referring to, was US." Draco gestured around the room. "_Magical humans_. Whatever it is that's wrong with you, it seems like we only make it worse by feeding your wild energy with our magic, but we're not able to re-absorb it when you discharge, or 'bleed off', as Aunt Andra put it. Any other magical being, though," he sat forward, staring at her intensely through the wall, "_They can_. At least, all the ones we've tested you with, so far. Whenever you release all that energy, it flows into them, you don't drain them completely – you can't – because it just cycles straight back into them._

_"Your magic draws in and then releases energy the way that it does, because your body is instinctively looking for a way to heal itself, tapping into any ambient source that it can find to try and fix you." He looked at her through the clear barrier. "Just like Aunt Andra said, magic is amazing." . . ._

Arielle was devastated – she could not be around her family and friends without causing utter havoc – what about Teddy? The question had all of them in tears, even Kingsley had needed to wipe his eyes and clear his throat gruffly at her clear anguish. The others had left shortly after, giving Ari privacy as she tried to come to terms with her new reality, cut off from all that she loved.

The next few days she had mostly slept or read quietly unless she had visitors – Kingsley had been there every day as they tried to piece together all that had happened during the attack. A lot of the information they had just didn't make any sense, not when it was compared to the other assaults in other places by Hydra-Kin.

_. . . "Every other attack was simple – get in there, make a whole lotta noise and scare the tourists, then get out once law enforcers showed up. Here, with four officers surrounding them, they suddenly decide to stick around and fight it out – _to the death_." Kingsley's frustration was apparent as he scrubbed his hand over his face, rubbing at his forehead with his wide palm as though he could feel a headache building behind his eyes._

_"Wait . . . what?" Ari sat up straight. "All of them?"_

_"Surprised the hell out of us, too," Shacklebolt snorted. "The backup squad Apparated into Knockturn Alley, and as far as we can figure, it wasn't long after Mitchell got knocked out – they were alerted by your Patronus, then we found out that the Floos were – mysteriously – out of action . . . don't worry, we _will_ find out what the hell happened with all of that, the badges were blocked, just about everything that could be locked down to prevent them from getting to you in time had been tampered with. I'm surprised they missed the elevators."_

_"I'm not." Ari grinned coldly. "THAT would have been far too easy for us to backtrack. There is a very limited list of people who would have the access required to mess with the elevator systems – that was one of the things we worked on, after the war, what with Riddle's puppet government finding it so easy to take over the building and clamp down on people getting out and escaping from them."_

_"True." Kingsley bit his lip in thought. He waved his hand to dismiss that for now. "Moving on, Thomas saw most of what happened when you got hit – he said you suddenly fell into the street from where you were, like you might have stumbled or tripped, and as you were falling . . . the last lot of Hydras apparently decided that if they were going down, then they were gonna take you down with them. Once the backup Officers saw you falling, with those bastards tracking you, they acted to defend you – only it didn't work out the way they hoped – the Hydras had already cast at you . . . and they didn't miss. Thomas nailed one of the bastards, just after he fired at you, with a Stunner – that only made him easy prey for the lion, unfortunately – the other two were burnt alive by the salamander." Ari just looked at him in shock. "Right, you don't remember. I forgot about that." . . ._

Ari had been relieved to hear that both Derek Mitchell and Paige Bryant were fine – Mitchell was apparently bitching heartily about being restricted to 'Light Duties' at the DMLE until he was medically cleared to go back to active service as a full Auror – and Bryant was recovering at home with her family.

_. . . "Kingsley, freeze it there!" she called through the barrier as Shacklebolt fiddled with the runes on the side of the Pensieve, managing to pause the recording as he looked over his shoulder at her._

_"There?" he queried, gesturing at the frozen scene projected above the basin – they had been reviewing memories from that day at Diagon Alley, piecing it all together a little bit at a time, memories from several people present within the Alley as the terrorists made their move . . ._

Arielle had been shocked to realise that the Curse that struck Bryant hadn't come from any of the terrorists in the centre of the Alley – as far as anyone could tell, the Spell originated from one of the shops next to where Ari and Paige were taking cover. Another scene was apparently a favourite in the squad-room, Kingsley had told her, if only for the sheer stupidity it displayed on the part of these morons.

_. . . Both had shaken their heads as they viewed the record of the marble pillar being shattered in front of Gringott's, falling down on top of the unlucky thugs that hadn't managed to get out of the way. "Irony is a wonderful, yet terrifying, thing sometimes." Shacklebolt had shrugged dismissively. Arielle had known exactly what he meant. A rather nasty way to 'bite the dust' as it were, but they had rather brought it on themselves, _literally_. It was unpleasant to witness, but neither of them were about to waste their sympathy on a bunch of murderous goons receiving a bit of 'rough justice', not when so many innocent people had been injured – some killed – during the battle._

_The particular scene that Ari had wanted him to pause, however, was from Dean Thomas' memory of that day, when he had seen Ari spin around in the middle of fighting off a band of the attackers to stare into a dark, shadowed corner of Knockturn Alley. The frozen image showed her standing there; face turned to the side with her right wand pointed straight towards whatever it was that she was staring at. With only her profile to go by, it was hard to make out her expression, but she appeared to be wary and confused by what she saw._

_Arielle stared unblinkingly at the projection until her eyes watered in protest, and shook her head. "Shack, I don't get it. I'm looking at this, and I still can't work it out. There I am, in the middle of a fight in Diagon Alley, trying to protect a fallen Auror and support the others, and then I just stop all of a sudden to peer randomly at an empty corner? There's nothing there, so what was I looking at?" . . ._

*T*C*o*F*W*

A shrill, ringing sound jolted her out of her reverie, as Maarit yowled indignantly in shock at the noise and dug her claws into the tender flesh of Ari's belly. Ari indulged in some yowling of her own at the sudden pain of her familiar's needle-sharp little talons raking across her skin. "Maarit!" she squalled loudly, "GERROFF!" Maarit leapt into the tangle of bedding that had been flung away when Ari bolted up, before streaking over the side of the mattress and out of sight. Ari growled irritably, muttering under her breath about 'scaredy-cats and stupid, bloody alarm clocks' as she reached over to press the alarm off, jabbing the button with a bit more force than was strictly necessary.

The LED numbers read 6:45am. Ari's brow wrinkled in confusion until she remembered the date – September 7th. "Ugh!" her groan was prolonged and heartfelt as she threw herself facedown on the pillow and indulged herself in a brief tantrum, pounding the pillow with her fists on either side of her head . . . she didn't want to go to school! For the love of Nimue, she was 29 years old, even if she didn't look it! Why in the name of the gods had she ever agreed to this, to come all the way to Smalltown, USA, and pose as a high-school student? Oh right, she KNEW why, she just didn't particularly care at that moment because she felt like brooding on the unfairness of it all.

*T*C*o*F*W*

_The attack in Diagon Alley had been at least partially motivated by her presence there – they had suspected it from the beginning, based on Dean Thomas' statement of hearing . . . and seeing . . . one of the masked terrorists identify Arielle during the course of the fight, and urge his compatriots to concentrate their efforts on taking her down – and they had confirmation later, when Ari had finally recovered to the point that she was no longer having spontaneous outbursts. The Goblin Healers had been confident that she could be released from their care, as long as she avoided places where her condition would be aggravated by contact with magical humans – essentially, she was banished from the Wizarding World entirely._

_She had been transported via Goblin Portkey to Gringott's, and that was where it had all gone so tragically wrong. Somehow, the knowledge of her presence in the Bank had been leaked to Hydra-Kin, and they found themselves under attack. Though the invaders had been intent on their mission to capture, or kill, Arielle, they certainly hadn't hesitated in cutting down anyone who got in their way . . . several of the cadre of Goblin warriors who had acted to repel the attackers were severely injured, or killed outright, in the ensuing bloodbath. Arielle certainly hadn't been lying low during the conflict, fighting alongside the defenders with everything that she had._

_Her heart broke when she saw Joba struck down, followed by Gulan as the little female wailed in grief at her sister's death – the determined little Healers had refused to just send her away from the Enclave without seeing for themselves that she would be in a safe place for the period of her recovery. On seeing Joba fall, Gulan had been seized with a kind of madness – she snatched up a sword lying at the side of its fallen master and charged towards the raiders, screeching like a banshee as she swung the razor-edged blade with lethal intent. One thug had fallen, and she had another cowering against the wall with the sword at his throat, before she was hit in the back with a Dark Cutting Curse that had all but sliced her in half._

_The deadly potential of Arielle's condition had been fully realised in that moment – she had come to be very fond of the women during her time with them – as she howled in rage at seeing her friends murdered right in front of her. She was consumed with the need for vengeance, _for justice_, as she strode out into the open from the cave wall she had taken shelter behind during the fight. Unafraid, she stalked towards the attackers as they rounded on her, raising their wands to cast. Her sudden outbreak of laughter gave them pause, as she sneered at them in loathing, the hysterical edge to her shrill chuckles unnerving them as she called out. "You wanted me? Well, here I am! What are you waiting for?" as they hesitated still, completely taken aback by her confident, unhalting advance, no wand in sight as she lifted her hands to them in a mockery of surrender. "Well?" She smiled coldly at them, baring her straight white teeth. "Shall we dance?"_

_One fellow, bolder than the others, had stepped forward to meet her challenge – and her smile took on a wicked curve as her eyes gleamed – _perfect_. How she loved it when they snapped up the bait so easily – her move to come out in the open like this hadn't been the rash impulse that it may have seemed – she had considered her options with icy logic, and chosen her tactics carefully. She appeared to be unarmed, holding out her hands to show her lack of wand, treading towards them steadily as she kept them distracted and off-balance with her apparently casual disregard of their malicious intent toward her as she moved ever closer, trying to get in range. This idiot's step forward had placed him right where she wanted him – and now it began. She felt her magic stir, humming under her skin as it registered their power, energy that it recognised as akin to its own. She had no control over the siphoning effect of her power – that was why it was so dangerous for her to be around other witches and wizards. The Goblin Healers had theorised that once her power started to channel outside energy it would not stop until it purged, and if the sources of energy were still within reach then the cycle would simply continue until the supply was either removed . . . or exhausted. She intended to test that theory._

_The apparent leader of this little band watched her cautiously as she cocked her head to the side and smirked at him. Those famous green eyes suddenly flared brightly, and he jumped back in shock as he felt something strange – it was as though his magic was being pulled away from him . . . but that wasn't possible, was it? He faltered suddenly, his legs weakening under him as he stumbled back, watching in horror as her eyes brightened further and her smirk widened. She watched him the way a kneazle would observe a wounded puffskein, ready to pounce. Gasping in horror, he fell to his knees even as he turned to order his fellows to retreat; this wasn't what they had planned._

_It was far too late – it was over from the moment he had stepped forward – once he got in range of her power and it drew his magic in, it had gathered strength to extend its reach towards the others in the group, affecting them as well. Some had already fallen to their knees, gasping for air as her magic swelled ever further. Others were crawling away, desperate to flee this unforeseen menace as they dragged themselves along the rough ground. Some made it out – others did not._

*T*C*o*F*W*

_Rrroaw?_ Maarit had re-emerged from under the bed now that the shrill beeping from the alarm had been silenced, propping her front paws on Ari's chest as she peered into her face inquiringly. "Alright, you mangy moggy, I'll feed you," Ari told her laughingly, giving her a fond scratch on the head between her long, furry ears as the half-grown kitten purred ecstatically, her golden eyes slitting in pleasure. Ari scooped her up as she hopped out of bed, running down the stairs to the ground floor of her new home and into the kitchen. Maarit hopped onto her shoulder, mewing in anticipation as her large eyes fixed on the cupboard where Ari stored her food and treats.

"Patience, my love," Ari sing-songed teasingly as she opened the doors, "Well, Your Highness, what will it be today? Chicken with pasta Alfredo, or maybe salmon with lemon-and-herb dressing? Ooh, I know!" she plucked a sachet from the cupboard and waggled it enticingly under Maarit's twitching nose, as her whiskers quivered in anticipation. "Braised beef and spicy tomato!" Maarit gurgled in approval as she leapt off Ari's shoulder and raced over to her bowl, sitting there regally as though she was a haughty socialite waiting to be served her meal in a five-star restaurant. Ari chuckled richly as she retrieved the scissors from the second drawer, slitting the packet and easing the contents into the bowl. Maarit lost all presumed dignity then, as she plunked her face in the bowl, devouring her breakfast like a starved orphan.

"Slow down, greedy guts," Ari called as she stuck her head in the refrigerator, searching for the fixings for her own morning meal. Alrighty, then; eggs, bacon, tomatoes, butter and milk. She carried her packages to the island, setting them down to fill the electric kettle and flick the switch. Frying pan on the stove, flame on, as she sliced tomatoes and removed the rind from the bacon. All her goodies were sizzling away when she heard a ripe belch from the floor where Maarit was still sitting over her bowl – the kneazle was staring at her, ears pricked as she licked her lips. Ari snorted, she really had to work on nipping this particular bad habit in the bud! "Alright, don't panic, its coming," she said, pointing her finger admonishingly at the unrepentant kitten. "And if you ever burp like that again, I'm cutting you off for a week!" Long ears drooped in dismay as Maarit stared at her in horrified disbelief – surely she wouldn't be so cruel?

Ari just wagged her finger sternly. "You heard me – a week." Just then, the kettle cut off as the water boiled, and she quickly grabbed two mugs off the tree. She made coffee first – half milk (organic, full-cream), half water, three teaspoons of instant coffee (Turkish blend) and two tablespoons of honey (Red-gum, creamed). Walking over, she set it down by the eager kneazle as she wriggled happily, lapping at the warm concoction enthusiastically while Ari made a face. "Ewww!" she went back to the frypan, flipping everything over, before a quick raid on the bread-bin saw two slices of bread toasting away as she made herself her own favourite morning beverage: Earl Grey, two sugars, and a dash of milk. She didn't know how Maarit could enjoy coffee so much – she never touched the stuff!

Buttering the toast once it popped, she loaded up the slices with her fried selections and sat down at the dining end of the island to eat. Once she finished, she loaded her dishes as well as Maarit's into the sink to wash later on – _after school_ – her shoulders slumped in resignation. After almost a decade, she was returning to school with a bunch of angst-ridden, hormonal adolescents all over again. "_Oh . . . JOY_."

**A/N 2: Thoughts? Good, bad, or ugly? I know that in my previous chapter, I said that I had broken it into two separate parts - and while that is true, I looked at the second part, and said no . . . just no. I desperately wanted to move the story along, and get into the Vampire Diaries aspect finally, so that Part II is ONE of the chapter versions lying around on my hard drive. I've actually used pieces out of it though, when I was splicing the flashbacks through this chapter, to explain bits and pieces of why Ari is here now, and little sneak-peeks of what she has been through back in Britain before arriving in Mystic Falls. Again, everyone, I'm so sorry about the long wait for this chapter, and I'm already working on the next one . . . while crossing my fingers and praying that it won't be as difficult to write as this one. Wish me luck!**

**Definitions**

Once Upon A September: amended from the song featured in the Disney version of **Anastasia** - Once Upon A December - I just found it to be really fitting for my character at that point in her old life.

Abbi (Arabic): my father

Ummi (Arabic): my mother

Marta (Scandinavian): a girl's name meaning 'pearl'. Eirikr, as her foster-brother turned brother-in-law, has known her ever since she was born and loved her as his little sister. I haven't revealed his background through this story yet, but he is of Viking origin, so he calls his little sister 'Marta', his precious pearl.

al-Gulawesi: the (mythical) town in Al-Andalus where Leandros and Zafira Thessalis lived, where their daughters, Ione and Ma`at, were born and raised.

Ma`at (Egyptian): According to mythology, Ma`at was the Egyptian goddess of truth, justice, and balance. Her feather is used in the ancient ceremonies of the dead when the hearts of the deceased are weighed in the underworld. If the heart is judged to be heavier than the feather, the person is deemed unworthy of entering paradise, and forever denied the chance of being reborn.

Khālah (Arabic): maternal aunt.

Sætrevatn (Norse): (literally) _Sætr - _sweet, _vatn - _water. Basically, I decided that I wanted to give pre-history Mystic Falls an actual name, so I figured I'd tip my hat to the Viking settlers like the Mikaelsons - and so 'Sweetwater' was born. It's not as crazy as it sounds, when I researched on the internet, I found a page that said the Viking explorer who founded Greenland, actually named it that because he was trying to encourage others to brave the Atlantic crossing to settle there. _Who knew?_

Maarit (Scandinavian): another variation of Marta, also meaning 'pearl'.

**Let me know what you think :)**


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